


Memento Mori

by arisanite



Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: Creatures, F/M, Ghosts, Gothic Victorian Romance, Haunted House, Haunting, Horror, Monsters, Obsession, Slow Build, Smut, Star-crossed, Tragic Romance, Unfinished Business, Voyeurism, posession, victorian romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-02-23 09:10:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 44,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2542124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arisanite/pseuds/arisanite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vivienne Bennett is a History Student who signed on a project to research the Maison du Cygne Sombre or the “House of the Black Swan”. Along with her teachers, friends, colleagues; they were to spend a week in the manor to document the artifacts found in it after it has been opened to the public since the fire that almost disintegrated it back in 1910. However, the repeated appearance around the manor grounds of a raven-haired man in a black waistcoat haunts Vivvie, making her wonder if he has something to do with the history of the house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Made in accordance to [ Quoting-Shakespeare-To-Ducks](http://quoting-shakespeare-to-ducks.tumblr.com/) Halloween Smut Sunday Spotlight.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Made in accordance to [Quoting-Shakespeare-To-Ducks](http://quoting-shakespeare-to-ducks.tumblr.com/) Halloween Smut Sunday Spotlight.

_Blue eyes filled with tears…_

_That’s the last thing she remembered. Everything else that remained in her memory was the smell of roses in bloom one beautiful summer’s night, the salty musk of the ocean, and earth after the first fall of rain._

_Everything else was blurry, and maybe it was because she was crying too – but she can barely see the person standing right in front of her, and all she could make out was one outstretched hand that was reaching out to her._

_It was beckoning to her._

_And they were calling out to her._

_“Please,” a male voice intoned, seemingly weighed down with sobs and pleading. She can barely make out his face, but she knew he was crying too… whoever he was.”I beg of you…”_

_The first thing she could have done was to reach out for that inviting hand – it was the most logical thing to do._

_But before she can do so, she felt a ghostly white hand with large white claws entwine itself around her neck, pulling her off where she was standing – as the scenery before her suddenly changed as she felt wind swirl around her from head to toe…_

_And she felt her body suddenly soaring through the air, but moving its way downward…_

_Down, down, down…_

_And then she was suddenly greeted with a cold splash of water._

 

***

 

She suddenly awoke with a start, clutching at her quilts, seemingly out of breath as if she felt she was drowning. Threading her long black hair out of her face, she brushed the tears away from those almond-shaped eyes as if it was part of a ritual. Putting both of her hands on her face, the girl slowly came to the realization that she was still in her assigned College Dorm Room.

The tears, they always keep on coming. Well at least for this one particular dream.

She has been having that dream ever since she could remember, probably even at a very young age… but it hasn’t been that clear. As vague as it was, this was already at its clearest. The voice was starting to take shape, as well as the mood, the feelings, even the smells of the place. It seems to take her back to a life she never has lived…

After all, the voice, the intonation, everything about it didn’t feel like the present day at all…

She lay there disoriented for a while wondering why the tears would fall every single time she would wake up. Whether it was fear or something else, she couldn’t put a finger on it. She began to tap on her bedside table in the dark, trying to get a hold of her phone, when her fingers suddenly fell upon something hard and sharp with defined edges on a round face.

Squinting, she picked it up and realized it was a necklace.

 _Ah_ , she thought as she held the pendant-shaped artifact in her hands, peering at it through the streetlights that seeped through her window. Turning it over her fingers, she tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest. _I guess this could have something to do with it._

She could say the dreams started when she first got that pendant… but that’s a story for another time.

Letting it sling around her fingers as she let it drop from her hands, she covered her face once more – trying to shake off both the feelings of fear, discomfort and sadness, one caused by a dream and another caused by a memory…

And that’s when her roommate stirred and looked at her blankly with sleepy eyes.

“You okay there, Vivienne?”

The said girl in question slowly raised her face from her small hands, her pendant being the first thing coming into view as she opened her eyes.

“I think –“ she started, voice croaking sleepily. “I think I’m fine.”

 

 

***

 

 

She was busy packing up her notes, when she found her seatmate’s desk empty. Scratching her head, Vivienne Bennett looked around, trying to find where her newfound friend ran off to. She discovered this new friend within the span of two weeks when she was playing an exchange student in the Florida State University to at least try and finish her penalty courses.

Just as she saw the entire class slowly filing out of the room, she found her professor standing near the door talking to one of the brightest students in the class, who then eventually exited left. To her surprise, she saw Professor Gerard Pickering – her goofy yet capable teacher in World Archivism turn towards her direction with a smile, motioning for her to approach the teacher’s table just in front of the wide blackboard.

Making her way down the auditorium-style classroom, Vivvie found herself standing in front of the professor’s table as her grinning teacher came to approach her, hands clasped together.

“Something the matter, Professor –“

The man smiled as he placed both hands on his table, only to push forward a beautiful sleek, black hardbound book in her direction. The young woman narrowed her eyes as she picked it up and turned it right side up, only to read the words outlined in silver: “The Legend of the Cygne Sombre”.

“The Black Swan Mansion…” she whispered, turning the heavy book around her small hands, realizing that it was a new edition despite existing for more than ten years now. “We discussed this in class earlier…”

Pickering nodded gaily at his student. “Yes,” he replied, licking his lips. “And you do know that we are having a research expedition in Vieux Carre at least two weeks from now…”

“We also discussed that earlier,” Vivienne interrupted him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you –“

The professor who was probably only a few years older than the girl who was struggling to finish her Undergraduate Penalty units nodded at her with a big smile on his face, much to the surprise Vivienne expressed with the way her eyes widened.

“On behalf of the History Department of Florida State,” he exclaimed. “We would like it if you would join us.”

The young woman dropped her jaw.

“But – But I’m just an exchange student –“

A smile spread upon the professor’s mouth. “Well yes,” he muttered as he sat down on his chair, adjusting the rims sitting on his nose. “But someone of valuable importance to the team suggested that you would be a good addition to the researchers –“

Vivvie found herself looking outside the door where all the students have dispersed, and found one lone figure that was a few inches smaller than her, reading a book against the window sill across the hallway. A small smile formed on her face, realizing that her new Uni best friend somewhat snagged this great opportunity for her.

“So you’ve been talking to Miss Anderson huh,” she said quietly as she sat the book down on the surface of the table again.

“Yes,” Pickering said, smiling. “And she only has good recommendations about you.”

She couldn’t help and wonder why she couldn’t find someone like Regina who could give her good raps to teachers like this. Maybe it’s because she’s already an old student once she returns to Irvine, and she isn’t really in good relations with her College but… that doesn’t really matter. Sometimes Vivienne couldn’t help but think if it’s better if she permanently transferred to the Florida University.

“And trust me Bennett,” the professor added. “We don’t usually let undergraduates on the team.”

The girl smiled, as she ran her hand on the surface of the book. She loved old mansions, she loved probing artifacts, and she loved learning more about history. Not to mention, her involvement with this project would definitely make a good case for her upcoming thesis. This is just like something heaven dropped on her feet.

And for some reason, she felt like _she just had to take it._

“So,” Pickering asked. “Are you up for it, Vivienne?”

The girl smiled.

“Definitely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to add this Prologue just to give a little more in-depth insight to the story... and probably give hints on who Vivienne really is.


	2. The Raven-haired Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notoriously known to be haunted, Vivienne Bennett bravely goes with her colleagues to explore the Black Swan Mansion for a research expedition. On her first day however, she encounters a black-haired man whom she does not expect to be part of the entourage at all.

“Who is that?”

The tall, mousy-faced professor with the bowtie who was probably only a few years older than the dark-brown-haired girl who stood beside him, lacking at least one to two feet in height. Professor Gerard Pickering smiled down at one of his young wards, before opening his mouth and filling the air again with that dignified talk he often delivers in class. “That my dear girl is Maebh von Paule, one of the mistresses of Count Danton Mugen Delacroix.” He leaned over to her and whispered, “It was believed that she prostituted herself to the Count’s associates to barter him out of jail.”

A blonde girl with a cute bob haircut suddenly sneaked behind Vivienne, causing the smaller, dark-haired girl to jump, considering that the manor where she was standing in was already giving her the creeps. “But wasn’t that Blanche Calhoun, also one of Count Delcroix’s seven mistresses?”

“No!” Pickering suddenly shot back, a smile appearing on his thin lips as he loved having a little debate with his students. Considering this particular one – the blonde girl who volunteered herself for this project – Miss Claire Benton, he just loved having a row with her considering the number of historical people involved with the Manor Stay-in Project. “Blanche Calhoun _did marry_ Count Delacroix, but she was only with him for a year and then he died. She was married to his associate, General Rigby after the war –“

“ – and it was she who whored herself for Rigby to get his accounts of mutiny lifted!” The blonde smiled as she stood close to the professor, clearly flirting. “Damn, Pickering! I stand corrected!”

“Well,” the man straightened his bowtie. “Thank God you’re out of campus, or I’d have you noted to the Student Affairs for having quite a dirty mouth!”

It wasn’t quite a surprise that Pickering actually smiled back and rocked back and forth on his heels, seemingly enjoying the discussion. Claire was making the same exact smile as well, while twirling her hair around her finger. And this made the brunette he was originally talking to roll her eyes as she left the two grinning madly at each other.

“Whatever,” Vivienne Bennett exclaimed as she walked over to look at the other painting, ignoring the whole flurry of people filling in the sitting room of Maison du Cygne Sombre.

It just so happened that the first day of their sleep-in project at the Historical Landmark was also the so-called “Open House” for the notorious Black House at the end of the road of one of the oldest suburban neighborhoods in New Orleans, the Vieux Carre. Select personalities, academics, and historians have been allowed in a few noted rooms in the house, with their attendance requested through personal invitations from the owner who had just surfaced after her return from Sussex. Now the History Department from the Louisiana State University has gathered a team of students and professors from across the country to help restore and document the artifacts found in the Black Swan Manor, just after Gertrude Duboix nee Sinclair decided to open the house to the select public after trying her family to restore the house themselves over several decades... But considering the stories and the unexpected arson case, Gertrude eventually decided to seek the help of experts.

The Head of the History Department of Louisiana State – Professor Robert Edgerton, came with a set of volunteers from all over the country: students taking their practicum, Professors of History and Architecture trying to get a better look at the fabled “Black House”, even some exchange students from abroad. Miss Vivienne Bennett, who hails from California, was taking her transfer units in Florida with Professor Pickering when he was called to this duty. With her high marks and her expression of interest to pursue a career in Archivism, Gerard Pickering asked her if she could spend one more holiday with him before going back to California.

And there she was, finding herself staring at an obscure family portrait from the Victorian Era, flanked by her new favorite Professor and at least a few classmates from Florida, including her good friend Regina who was also in the same History course as her.

Of course, despite being an “Open House”, not everyone was really willing to visit the Black Swan Manor. Several experts have declined – the well-known historian Arnold Hastings from Oxford, Professor Maria Hardesty from New York, and even Dr. Angus McGibbon who wrote a book about haunted houses and the like. Despite being one of the historical landmarks that still stand in Vieux Carre, the manor resides in a hard-to-reach location, flanked by a swamp and surrounded by thrushes that is filled with wildlife. Not to mention its own notorious history that includes its housekeepers never coming back or never turning up after their shifts, and the fact that even Gertrude Duboix refuses to reside there. Stories of voices, of unspeakable things that happen behind the dark, tall oakwood walls of the manor, and various accounts of people seeing shadows and faint lights that do not indicate the use of electricity shoo explorers and terrify trespassers of the Black Swan Manor.

But today, everything will change.

“Ah, Miss Gertrude,” said the big and burly man who approached this middle-aged lady with almost gray hair who curtly approached him, followed around by that stern looking current keeper of the house. “Let me introduce you to our team –“

Vivienne was inquisitively trying to get a better look at the oddly-painted picture that was beside who was believed to be Maebh von Paule, when she was suddenly tapped on the shoulder by Pickering and then quickly turned around to say hello to the supposed matron of the house.

He then began introducing the small number of participants for the restoration project, starting with the long-nosed, cross-looking man with graying hair who stood beside him. “Dr. Neil Carlton, as you have known.” The man then gave the matron a firm handshake.

“His assistant, Bailey Randall,” he referred to the boy who was not even shy of his seventeenth birthday, who just smiled feebly at the woman.

“This is Dr. Susan de los Reyes, a representative from New York,” he then referred to this beautiful woman with honey-colored skin with her long black hair tied up in a bun. For some reason she exchanged glances with Mrs. Duboix who then gave her a smile.

“This is Chase Reeves from the Washington State University,” he referred to a big-boned boy with broad shoulders and ginger hair, and spoke with a Scottish accent.

“Chloe Richardson, Dr. Susan’s assistant,” he gestured to a brunette who was trying so hard not to flirt with Chase.

Dr. Edgerton introduced a few more people in their team before coming face to face with four people he was very familiar with, since these were chosen from the University where he came from.

“This of course, Professor Pickering, as you have met –“ He gestured to the man who offered the stern-faced woman a silly little wave, earning him a dismissive little nod.

“And these are his aides –“ He first referred to a perky Claire who hastily shook Gertrude’s hand, rendering the woman a bit confused with the enthusiasm. “Our representative from the Graduate department, Claire Benton –“

He quickly shifted to a shy-looking girl with long black hair who held on to Viv’s hand. “Our prized student from the Undergraduate Program, Miss Regina Anderson –“ The brunette quietly took the woman’s hand and shook it firmly, trying to avoid Gertrude Duboix’s piercing green eyes.

“And our transferree from California,” Edgerton said, taking a deep breath, seemingly happy to end his long introductions. “Miss Vivienne Bennett –“

The girl in question was about to raise her hand to formally deliver the handshake, when all of a sudden she found her chin clamped in the woman’s bony fingers, with her signet ring eating onto her jaw.

Her dark-brown eyes quickly widened in shock and fear only to find out that Gertrude Duboix has grabbed her face and lifted it closer to glare at her, causing the entire room to become silent as Vivienne found herself staggering forward in those leather boots towards the woman. The frown of the tall, dark-haired housekeeper behind her wasn’t really comforting either.

“ _Mon dieu..._ ” she exclaimed, causing a small keening cry to escape Viv’s throat.

She stared her down, those green eyes filled with horror, worry, and shock. It made the girl wonder – what did she do wrong? Has she offended her in some way? Why is the guest of honor at that time and place suddenly holding her face in such a threatening manner as if she has seen her face before –

All of a sudden, something seemed to have snapped from the older woman’s head as she unceremoniously released Viv’s face, causing the girl to quickly step backward as she rubbed the spot on her chin where the matron’s cygnet ring left a mark.

“I-I’m sorry,” Gertrude exclaimed, blinking furiously as she stepped back, trying to ignore the furious and shocked looks on the other people’s faces. The tension in the room was so thick, it was even making the most esteemed professors nervous. “I just had to take a closer look at your face –“

Viv couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as she felt Pickering stand beside her, holding her shoulder in a protective stance, and Regina quickly clinging to her other arm.

“You just _look very familiar_.”

For some reason, the suspiciously ominous-looking caretaker behind her snorted.

Dr. Edgerton was about to open his mouth to break the tension that was occurring in the middle of the group, when Mrs. Duboix herself apologized, those piercing green eyes softening as she quickly reached out and absent-mindedly patted the girl’s arm.

“Forgive me for my roughness on this child,” she said in this deep beautiful voice that you wouldn’t expect from her tall and lanky figure. “I think I must have gotten ahead of myself as I must have confused her for someone else...” She worriedly looked at Vivienne again, causing the girl to rub the spot on her face once more.

Composing herself, the woman continued to talk – and that stern and wary demeanor lifted from her disposition for a meantime as she spread her arms to the team and smiled warmly.

“But I only want to thank you all for being here to aid us in our research and reformation of the Maison du Cygnet Sombre. Your participation and your presence means a lot to the Delacroix and Sinclair families.” Clasping her hands together, she exclaimed, “Please enjoy your stay...”

But as she was about to end her speech in a gentle note, she suddenly turned to the girl once more with those dubious green eyes and uttered, “ _And please be mindful of what the house tells you_.”

 

 

***

 

“I – I don’t get it.”

The black-haired girl with the Asian complexion walked beside her shyer friend who clung to her arm earlier, stroking it to calm her down after being somewhat assaulted by the matron of the house. The same question hounded her mind as she strolled outside the Manor grounds, sort of exploring the house they were about to stay in. In fact, they already had all their packed bags in the vans parked nearby the house, as they’re all just waiting for the Open House event to end before they move all their things in their designated rooms.

“You don’t get what?” Regina asked quietly, tucking back a lock of hair as she walked beside her friend.

“Mrs. Duboix,” Viv uttered as she kicked a stone away from the path, ignoring some smoking guests to the side of the fence as she and Regina walked deeper into the gardens. “She just doesn’t seem right in the head.” The girl turns to her friend wincing. The thing is, Regina seemed to be wearing the same expression, except a bit tamer.

“The whole ‘ _Be wary, the house speaks_ ’ thing?” Viv exclaimed, gesturing to thin air, almost immitating Pickering. “Creepy fuck right there.”

Regina didn’t say anything.

“It’s as if the house speaks –“ The girl fidgeted and kicked a pebble, clearly getting a bit uncomfortable as she walked beside her friend.“And she just suddenly up and grabbed me as if I insulted her in another life –“

“You haven’t met her before, have you?” the girl with the button nose asked, her inquisitive dark eyes seemingly wondering as well if Viv wasn’t telling the truth.

“Of course not!” The girl exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air, surprising Regina. “I haven’t even seen her before, until I researched all those books and saw her face connected with the Black Swan House!” She turned to see that her good friend was a bit bothered by her sudden outburst, looking at her perceptively under those glasses. “Come on Reggie,” she exclaimed as she pocketed her hands in her long black cardigan. “You know that I’m speaking the truth.”

The two paused walking when a beautiful hedged clearing came into view, a small gazebo sitting in the middle of the thrushes.

“Maybe,” Reggie exclaimed, leaning on one of the giant stone black swans that decorated the entrance of the clearing. “Maybe Mrs. Duboix is a bit drunk...”

A small smile appeared on the other girl’s face. “Yeah,” she muttered, looking up at the gloomy sky, the sun hidden behind the clouds. “She’s French after all.”

“Well, she’s really English,” Regina corrected her, wearing a little smirk. “She does have a bit of French blood from her great-great grandmother’s side. And it has been reported that she lived in Paris as a child.”

Completely impressed that her friend did her research, Viv could only grin upon remembering how brilliant her friend is.

“Quite right,” she muttered. “Quite right.”

For some reason it made the tension filling up her chest lift up a bit. After that encounter with Mrs. Duboix, Viv couldn’t help but think of something ominous about the woman, the house, the place, and even the project... But maybe it’s just a stupid hunch people make when they’re nervous.

She was already all smiles and was glad that her friend started grinning as well, when she turned to look at the Gazebo when she swore she saw something move.

Vivienne was about to mentally review everything she knew, read, and heard about the house when she saw a shadow move in the gazebo... when she turned to see that it was just a man reading a book in the darkness of the structure.

He looked like one of the professors at the Open House Event – dressed up in a long coat, sporting a dark waist-coat and tall dark boots that reached his shins. He had quite a stern look on his face, but the darkness in the gazebo did not permit Viv to get a better gander at it.

Everyone in the party were either historians, professors, architects, artists, or educators; but she does not remember seeing this man explore the parlor of the Black Swan Manor. She was thinking that maybe he’s connected with Gertrude, and probably one of her older sons, considering that gait and the height that reminded her of the woman. Despite her distance from the gazebo and the growing curiosity, Vivienne didn’t understand why but she needed to see this man’s face... And what bothered her is that she couldn’t make anything out of it.

Not that he’s faceless... _but he seemed to be._

“Hey,” Reggie suddenly spoke, budging Viv out of her concentration to get a better glimpse of the stranger’s face. “I’m going back in for refreshments, are you coming?”

The man seemed to have heard Regina speak, as he turned his head in their direction, his face still shielded by a shadow on his face. It was too dark and the sun wasn’t even shining, and yet Viv wonders why it is too dark inside the gazebo. But now she could make out these beautiful black curls that fell on either side of his head and ended at his sharp, jutted chin. His glorious hair framed a seemingly pale face, as she could only make out sharp cheekbones from the distance she was standing on. She swore she was far enough, but with the way he turned his head, she was sure that he heard them speaking.

“Y-Yeah I’ll follow,” Viv exclaimed, taking her eyes off the shadow in the structure, her hands now stroking the black swan figure Reggie was initially leaning on, pretending to be studying it. The smaller girl just shrugged and made her way back towards the same beaten path they were walking on, away from the shrouded garden that led to the clearing and back into the entrance of the manor.

Once she was gone, Viv turned to glance at the figure in the gazebo again.

He was still there, but now he had placed his book down and he was standing up. She could make out this black cravat that was snug around his neck and tucked behind that pitch black satin waistcoat, standing in complete contrast of that white inner dress shirt. She got a better glimpse of the boots now, and realized that they weren’t normal mid-calf boots, but they were rider boots. And for some reason, considering that she had been looking at catalogues for the Civil War re-enactment she was wishing to participate in before she left for New Orleans, Viv realized that those boots were rider boots. And they’re not just any kind of rider boots you can pre-order online... since they were only worn back in the 1880s.

But what made her hair stand on an end was that she finally got a full view of his face.

He was beautiful with that pale skin that gloriously stretched over those sharp cheekbones. Despite having thin lips, he had a stern handsome face that reminded her of the Greek and Roman gods of old. But what completely took her breath away were those pair of brilliantly blue eyes that could pierce deeper than what Gertrude Duboix’s eyes could do in her presence – and he could do it from a mile away.

And with that blue-eyed stare she received from this ominous stranger, Viv felt a sharp bolt jump from the nape of her neck and down her spine, eliciting a sharp shiver from her body.

Tearing her eyes away from the stranger, she was suddenly feeling unwelcome and dreadful as she called out to Regina who had probably already entered the Manor. “Reggie! Wait for me!”

She quickly ran down the beaten path and the cobbled steps, daring once more to turn around and look at the gazebo that was still in her view.

The man was gone.


	3. The First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The volunteers spend their first night in the Black Swan Manor. Weird things happen before bed and for some reason, something keeps Viv awake through the duration of the night.

“There was once an account of a trespasser entering the manor after hours... The said trespasser was only probably a boy of sixteen years of age, not any older than you –“ Gerard Pickering gestured to the curly-haired moptop sitting across him, already in his jammies, shivering behind an unusually large pillow. Seated around him are the younger set of the Restoration Team, excluding one of his students.

“He was about to start looting in the parlor, the very same parlor where we were all in this morning –“

A shuffling sound was heard from outside of Pickering’s designated room in the Manor, and all the youngsters shivered with fright.

“When he suddenly saw a girl, wearing a white party dress, cross the room he was hiding in. She was wearing a golden trinket that he wanted to get his hands on. So he followed the girl in white up the grand staircase, trying to ask her for her pendant, but she kept on ignoring him.”

He paused for a while to find Regina shivering in a corner, leaning on Claire who was just smiling suggestively at the storyteller. Licking his lips, Gerard continued telling his story with his voice getting deeper, but this time facing the nervous-looking Chloe who was leaning on Bailey’s shoulder.

“So when he was planning to threaten her life for it, he grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her around –“

Chloe shrieked even before Gerard could finish.

The man was actually raised an eyebrow before he can deliver the punchline.

“—and she had no face.”

All of a sudden the door slammed open.

 

_BANG!_

 

Everyone in the roomed shrieked including Pickering.

Amidst the chaos, a head filled with dark hair popped up from behind the door, as she looked absurdly at all of them with those exasperated almond-shaped eyes.

“Guys,” Viv said worriedly, one eyebrow raised as she looked at the shuddering group. “How are we supposed to take this restoration project seriously if you are going to tell horror stories every night before bed time and then scream once someone knocks on your door?”

Looking offended, Pickering shot back, “But you didn’t knock at all, Miss Bennett.”

For a moment, Vivienne looked at him with a sardonic expression, before cryptically gesturing to the open door that was hanging at an odd angle.

“No, but seriously,” the girl spoke again amidst the silence. “You guys are in a _reported_ haunted house. Don’t you know that talking about ghosts gets them to actually notice you?”

There was a silence in the room.

Worried expressions filled the faces of everyone seated down around Pickering, including the professor himself. And for some weird reason nobody could explain or dare to explain, there seemed to be a cold draft from the supposed closed window in Pickering’s room that passed through the group and slammed the door closed behind a shocked-looking Viv.

Everyone screamed.

“Alright, alright,” Gerard exclaimed frantically in his flawless English accent as he brushed dirt off his jammies, standing up. “The party pooper is right. We should call it a night. We all have to be up early tomorrow morning.”

They all eventually filed out of the room, with Regina clinging to a pensive-looking Viv’s arm, Claire scowling behind them as she followed closely. The three girls headed for the third floor by returning to the landing of the grand staircase.

“Smooth moves, Bennett,” the blonde glowered behind her as they approached their rooms with the doors facing each other.

“Come on Claire,” Viv answered back, looking over her shoulder and ignoring the tight way Regina has wrapped her hands around her forearm. “I was looking all over the house for you lot, and I was about to go back to the living room –“

Regina gasped as Claire quickly overtook the two and grabbed Viv by the shoulders. “What?! You tried to go downstairs –“

“...when I suddenly remembered Mr. Peabody’s warning not to loiter the grounds after nine.”

Mr. Peabody is the tall caretaker in black who was personally accompanying Mrs. Gertrude Duboix around the house when she arrived. He was this stern looking tower of a man who often wore an old fading gray golf cap. He was quiet and had a forbidding air about him, as if he knew something that they all did not...

However, he was still kind enough to help them take up their luggage up to their designated rooms. But peculiarly, he spent most of his time helping the women. For some reason, Viv couldn’t understand why he couldn’t stop looking at her underneath the golf cap, eyeing her peculiarly with a distrusting smirk.

“Turns out you were all just camping at Pickering’s room,” Viv scoffed as Regina opened this large oak door to the side of the hall of the third floor.

There were about a dozen rooms or more in the Black Swan Manor, and less than half of these were assigned to the volunteers. Some of them got to share a room, except for some of the esteemed professors that included Edgerton and Carlton. Dr. Susan shared hers with Chloe, while Bailey and Chase were designated one room. Now when it came to Pickering and his team of students, there were only three rooms provided for them, because originally Vivienne wasn’t supposed to come and was assigned to the list on the last minute. Claire was about to suggest sharing the room with Pickering, but it was the shy Regina who stepped up and asked to be paired with her best friend as she was afraid to be all alone in one room.

“I could have done more than ‘camp’ if you haven’t interrupted –“

“Claire...”

The blonde just chuckled as she opened the door to her room that was just across the hall next to Viv and Reggie’s. “Bennett, sometimes I think you’ve got the hots for _my_ man.”

Reggie, who was already inside their own room suddenly peeked out, intrigued by the sudden outburst from Claire. Viv on the other hand, looked at the blonde as if she actually had anything to drink that night when alcohol was clearly prohibited in the Manor without permission from the Elders in their team.

“Why would I ever –“

Claire just smirked at the girl’s horrified face and said, “Keep your hands off my _Gerry_. And whatever happens tonight, nobody knock on my door!” And with that, the girl slammed the door closed in Viv’s and Reggie’s faces, both etched with an expression that was hard to describe.

“ _Gerry_?!” Regina mouthed to a disgusted-looking Viv.

“Seriously, where the fuck did that come from?” The other brunette said with a face that screamed of revulsion.

 

 

***

 

There was a gust of wind blowing outside their window, causing the old curtains to billow. Regina had to stand up from her bed and pause from her unpacking just to close the wall-high windows to the small veranda. They were assigned to a dainty little room at the West Wing of the house, where majority of the renovations have been made just a decade ago, to try and accommodate guests in the house again. Despite the halted renovations that was supposed to span the East Wing that had been burned, that project done ten years ago had to be stopped after some of the workers went missing.

This room to which the two was residing in seemed to belong to a little girl’s – with its old wallpaper of faded floras, faunas, and cherubs etched on the wall. Two beds are set side by side, with a small antique dresser holding an old lamp setting them apart. With how wide and spacious the room is, you could say that they can fit at least two more beds in, but the other bare half was just decorated with antique dressers and an old desk that seemed to be designed for a school girl.

“...I don’t understand why she would think that I’d be interested in Pickering,” Vivienne muttered as she walked about, getting acquainted with the room as she unpacked her things from her bag. “She would have to accuse all the girls in this team who dared to talk to him – But seriously why me?”

Regina chuckled as she unpacked a teddy bear and a personal pillow, laying it on the bed beside her. “Haven’t you noticed that you’re Pickering’s favorite student, Vivvie?” she noted. “Maybe that’s why Claire is on to you.”

Her friend made a face at her as she tossed a few handful of clothes and some night cream on her bed that was made of satin sheets that seemed to have been replaced a few days ago.

“Me?” Viv said animatedly, throwing her hands up in the air. “What about you? You’re basically Pickering’s favorite since you’re the one with the top marks in the class – common knowledge, my friend.”

“Yes,” Regina suddenly spoke up. “But I wasn’t the first person whom he asked to sign up for the Restoration project... remember that.”

The other brunette pretended to think in the middle of picking up a small antique box from her bag, only to shake her head and throw the package on the bed. The box bounced on the thick mattress, almost falling off the edge. But the least that happened to it is that it just suddenly snapped open, and something golden and black tumbled out from it.

“What’s that –“ Reggie quickly spoke as she stood to touch it, when Viv stood in her way and picked up the item and the box from the bed.

“It’s that Swan Pendant, Reggie,” she said in a seemingly disinterested tone, that didn’t match that inquisitive expression on her face as she placed the wooden box down and began to turn the pendant around in her hands as she traced the swan imprint with her fingers.

“That again?” her long-haired friend snorted. “I can’t believe you brought it here with you on the trip.”

Vivvie shrugged. “I felt like I had to,” she spoke as she looked around the room with the childish motif, with the pinks slowly turning into grays and shades of bronze with time aging it. “It has the same motif as the house, I couldn’t help but make the connection...”

“But he gave that to you...” Reggie inquired, sitting up on her bed. “Aren’t you over him yet?”

The dark-haired girl shrugged. The pendant was a gift to her – by a boy she once loved. He claimed that he won it in an auction, but considering his notorious ways of getting things, she wasn’t even sure of how he acquired of such a treasure since it was an old and seemingly expensive Victorian artifact.

He was her first kiss. And it turns out that she was his last as he died of a freak accident a few months before she left for Florida to do her transfer units.

“Who would be,” she quietly whispered as she quietly traced the design, thinking of the boy who gave it to her.

 

***

 

Eventually, Regina and Vivienne settled for a lights out in their room.

Already dressed in those silk pajamas with the matching button down top, Viv found solace in her bed as she stared at the ceiling, listening to what she believed was silence.

As her friend quickly fell asleep, Viv couldn’t help but think about Reggie’s words. As much as she swore that she loved the boy, she sometimes wondered why she didn’t cry at his funeral. She even found herself angry and cursing him even after death, but all her mother could say that it was her own way of dealing with grief. Nonetheless, that night she couldn’t help but think of him.

But then she felt her thoughts shift towards the mystery of the house she was currently sleeping in when she heard the wind outside rustle once more. The magnified creaks and hums of the house with the way how matter scientifically expands in the cold at night, Viv found herself wondering if the stories are true. Those stories published in the internet, those hearsay passed on from one person to another in the college and even on their way to the Manor, and even those articles written by historians themselves as she read about them on the plane.

She was thinking about the history of the house in particular, how it used to be a boarding school for girls and it was bought by an English gentleman to turn it into his summer home... and never used. What really bothered her at that moment is that she wasn’t able to finish the book since she had to get out of the bus, and that moment she couldn’t remember the gentleman’s name –

 

 

Viv’s eyes widened.

She was sure that the wind was rustling the trees outside, considering that there was this large tree just outside their window. But then again what she heard wasn’t the wind and _it came from inside the house_...

She closed her eyes and tried to forget about it, thinking that maybe it’s just her imagination.

 

_Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..._

 

This time Viv had to get up from her lying position.

The moaning was definitely coming from inside the house, and she can hear it just outside the hallway. And what completely bothered her was that it didn’t stop... and it kept on and on, never fading, and only growing louder.

 

 

The hallway was dark, save for this blue light coming from outside the house that was probably brought about by a lampost or one of the surrounding outer lights installed in the exterior to keep away intruders who liked to take advantage of the dark. But the hallway of the third floor was definitely dark, save for the fact that Vivienne’s eyes had adjusted in the dark and she could see right across her...

Claire’s doorway.

And this time she could hear the moaning definitely coming from inside her room.

 

_Loooooooooooooooooooooard..._

 

Viv wasn’t really keen on facing a ghost, but she wouldn’t be able to sleep if she knew that Claire is being haunted by one and she didn’t do anything to help her get out of such a tricky situation. She is also pretty positive that Claire wasn’t a ghost herself since she managed to talk and interact with her all day... unless she was a doppelganger. Suddenly, Viv had this genuine fear for her friend that she quickly summoned her courage to step in the dark and reach for her friend’s door –

 

_SLAM!_

 

“JESUS CHRIST –“

Viv literally skidded to a stop as she felt her knuckles hurt for holding the door handle too hard. She swore that she was so scared that she completely forgot her manners... And the first thing she found was Claire in her bed, her pants wrapped around her ankles...

With a vibrator slick and thrust inside her cunt.

 

“DON’T YOU EVEN KNOCK ANYMORE BENNETT?!!”

 

Despite the initial fear of the supernatural and the shock upon finding her friend and colleague masturbating, Vivienne couldn’t help but palm her face in the middle of her weak assumptions. She couldn’t help but let a small snigger escape her mouth either. She reprimanded herself of the fact that if she didn’t let fear and impulsiveness take over her brain and listened closely to those unearthly moans, she could hear a voice moaning _Gerry_...

“Please,” she said comically with her hands now up in the air as she backed away from the door. “Don’t let me come in between you and Gerry –“

Claire’s face that was a mix between shock and shame was something priceless to look at as she gaped horrendously at the laughing figure at the door.

“If that’s what you named your toy.”

A pillow almost hit her face if she didn’t shield herself with the door.

“GET OUT!”

Viv was still giggling quietly to herself as she walked out of the door, closing it firmly behind her.

 

***

 

 _His lips tasted like peppermint_.

_The way he gripped her chin was so soft and gentle, reminding her of a gentleman. But the way he devoured her mouth just reminded her of a man parched with thirst, wanting to drink up everything her lips had to offer. And boy did he taste delicious._

_His hands did not remain clamped on her chin, nor tangled in her hair. He was suddenly tugging at those small buttons on her silk pajamas, snapping them off with those dexterous fingers as he tilted his head back and forth, smothering her mouth with kisses that sounded and felt like prayers of a lover for his dear sweet one that he hasn’t seen for days..._

_Months..._

_Probably even years..._

_In no time he had her creamy skin revealed, as he gently tugged on those elastic bands of her silk-laden trousers, pulling it down her legs as he let his fingers roam the distance from underneath those healthy well-endowed breasts down those creamy thighs... He made sure never to miss any dip or curve on her skin with his fingers tracing love letters he never got to say or wouldn’t say with his mouth still attached to hers. Eventually he had to let her come up for air, as quickly pressed his lips against the smooth column of her neck, gently grazing his teeth on the surface._

_She moaned as he did so. And she tugged on his strong arms covered by the loose workings of his inner dress shirt, as she let her hands wander upwards... gently touching his slender neck. Her hands then explored that taut chest as she gently fingered the dress shirt, spanning her fingers from his slender neck to his sternum. Her eyes were closed but her fingers described him for her – she let them wander down only to feel the smooth fabric that hung above his waist, the delicate patterns of the thin cloth gently brushing against her fingertips._

_Hands moving back up, she began to trace patterns on the skin just below his jaw. She managed to have him emit a moan as she dragged her fingers down the column of his neck. Her hands affixing around a piece of delicate cloth that was tied around the collar of his dress shirt, she let her fingers around the detailed patterns of the cloth, successfully untying it with a few twists of her fingers. She felt him gulp with his throat against her hand as she tugged on the cloth tied around his neck, as she let it fall through her fingers, eventually tossing it aside..._

_Her hands then worked on that firm pair of trousers as she instinctively unbuttoned the tip, as she freed that burgeoning erection that couldn’t even fill her own fist..._

_As she wrapped her hands around his shaft, he moaned against her neck._

_He quickly freed her hands from his erection as he distracted her by dragging that warm mouth down her exposed breasts, breathing on her sensitive nipples, causing her to squirm against his body. Without penetrating her, he pressed his body against hers as he began to tease her tits with that warm tongue, his cock throbbing against her exposed thigh._

_She could hear it but he gently removed his hands from cupping her other breast, as he inserted two fingers in his mouth, releasing them with a slick, wet pop._

_She bit down on her lower lip as she felt those same wet fingers gently being applied to her swollen clit, as his other hand parted her legs, giving him full access to her wet and dripping sex._

_He slowly inserted two of his digits within her quivering folds, causing her to stretch her body as he filled her in, as she arched her neck in reply and almost screamed into her headboard – a haunting moan filling the room that could rival even the sound of spectres inhibiting the house._

_She couldn’t see him with her eyes closed in ecstasy, but her secret lover bit those thin yet luscious lips as he stretched her inner walls with his fingers, a shudder engulfing his person... With a desperate longing look filling his handsome face as he watched her squirm and thrash responsively against his intrusion._

_He gently kissed her again, his wet mouth lingering against her pouty lips, as he allowed her to feel the shudder that went through his body... smiling with the satisfaction of kissing her again._

_“Welcome home,” he spoke in that flawless English accent that dipped with this wonderfully haunting baritone, causing a shudder to run down her spine when she heard it. “My love.”_

_That was when she opened her eyes and found herself staring at this beautifully angled face with crested cheekbones, still in the throes of passion shared with her. Seeing that she has awakened, he parted his lips and opened those beautiful crystal-blue eyes with the color so clear despite the darkness in the room._

_And then he smiled down lovingly at her, with a bit of dread and deviousness in the expression, as his gaze filled her chest with butterflies._

 

Viv sat up on her bed, panting.

There was one important detail that snapped her out of her dream – her ex-boyfriend had brown eyes, and _not blue_.

Frantically looking in the dark, her eyes adjusting, she felt her stomach drop when she turned to look down – only to find her pajama top unbuttoned _to reveal her breasts_ and topped off... with a foreign black cloth that was laid neatly on her exposed chest, somewhat decently covering her and teasing her curves at the same time.

Quickly snatching it in her hands, she felt a gasp escape her mouth when she recognized the same smooth silky texture that was vividly described in her dream, as she slowly let it fall from her fingers and onto the floor in a soundless manner.

Sweating cold, Vivienne looked around the room only to find herself and the slumbering, undisturbed Regina alone, in the silence of the night.


	4. Paired Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite having trouble sleeping, Viv joins her teammates in exploring the Mansion. However, its only been less than twenty four hours since they moved in and weird things just wouldn't stop happening to them. To her.

Vivienne looked like shit during breakfast.

 _At least I’m not the only one without a good excuse_ , she thought as she watched Claire skulking over her cup of coffee in a corner watching Pickering as he chatted with Dr. Susan at a nearby table with hooded eyes.

Viv sat at the table, staring at her half-eaten breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast as she watched her colleagues and seniors eagerly wolfing down the food on their plates or healthily discussing things on topic over a cup of tea or coffee.

She turned to look at the well-rested and content Regina sitting conveniently beside her, reading the news over her wide-screen phone, munching through her own slice of toast. Somehow, Viv couldn’t explain how on earth could she be well-rested when they were in the same room and she probably be moaning out a nightmare.

Viv gritted her teeth as she wolfed down what was left of her eggs, trying to unthink of that dream she had that night.

It was so real... and yet it wasn’t.

Half of it felt like she was dreaming and the other half felt like she was truly in his arms, as if she was truly feeling the warmth of his body, the caress of his lips, and those fingers buried deep inside of her.

There was something else.

Something about those blue eyes...

A certain kind of thirst...

A kind of longing she couldn’t explain...

The girl grit her teeth in the middle of swallowing her eggs on her toast, wondering how she still managed to get out of bed after that haunting ordeal. _And could it be?_ She found herself asking her mind. _Is it an actual haunting? Or is it just a figment of my imagination?_

She remembered the man’s blue eyes and that firm smile that crossed his thin lips…

It was the same firm smile she saw from that stranger she saw at the gazebo.

Next thing she knew, she had downed half of her coffee and while she was in the middle of her thoughts, had finished that last two strips of bacon. Normally she had no appetite when she was genuinely bothered by supernatural occurrences like this (especially now that was happening to her), but it was unusual that she was actually _this_ close to finishing her breakfast.

Pushing herself to finish what she needed to eat in order to have that energy for an entire day of indexing, recording, possibly carrying furniture, exploration and the like, Viv finally found herself rising out of her chair and pushing her plate back, not bothering to bring it into the kitchen as the maids and servers were bustling about during their first morning in the Manor. Ignoring that Regina had raised her head, Vivienne was too immersed in her thoughts of her disturbing dreams to even check where she was going.

That’s when she found herself in the parlor of the Manor where they held the Open House a day before.

Viv found herself looking at one of the group pictures taken long ago, possibly two-hundred years ago, as it was hung beside Maebh von Paule’s painted portrait. She was about to take a glance at this photograph that seemed to look like a family portrait, when Pickering tapped her on the shoulder to introduce her to Mrs. Duboix.

But now that she has seen it, she wished that she hadn’t.

As she took a closer look at the picture (that was composed of three women and two men, all of the three females seated with the men standing behind them), Viv couldn’t help but frown as she scrutinized the black-haired man that stood behind the one whose face seemed scratched out, wondering why he looked very _familiar_.

 

“Viv!”

 

“MOTHERF—“

 

The girl almost jumped from where she was standing when she heard someone call out her name, snapping her out of that trance of looking at that fair-skinned man with the curly black hair. She turned around only to find Regina standing behind her, still holding on to her piece of toast, bread crumbs still on the side of her face.

“Why so jumpy so early in the morning?”

The smaller girl’s voice was obviously holding a teasing tone, causing Viv to scrunch her nose, wondering if the girl had any idea what was going on with her.

Nervously fidgeting, Vivienne, ran a hand through her hair, trying to find an excuse for her adrenaline-induced actions. Knowing that aside from the fact that Regina is almost like a mind reader with how she was able to deduce things, she also knows that she just couldn’t hide secrets from this particular friend.

“I don’t...I just don’t…”

Munching on the last piece of the bread, Regina looked around her and moved closer to where Viv was standing over.

“You weren’t sleeping well last night either,” Regina mumbled as she also scrutinized the picture Viv was looking at. “You were groaning in your sleep, as if you were having a nightmare.”

“Are you… are you sure I was…” Viv gulped, wondering if her friend heard anything else. “I was just groaning? Nothing more?”

Regina turned to look at her, eyes wide, before gulping what was left of her food.

“Well, yes.”

Viv felt her stomach drop at that tone of voice Reg used. She may have been fast asleep that night, but who knows what she must have heard? Viv was easily woken up by Claire’s orgasmic moans, and it seemed to echo through the walls.  Who knows what kind of sounds she was making on her own?

That dream was so erotic.

It felt so real.

The man’s hands brushing against her skin…

His lips against her neck…

Viv found herself fidgeting again much to her chagrin, remember how wet she was when she went to change her panties that morning. The thing is, she never had quite an erotic dream like that before; she hasn’t had one in years, except when she was hormonal. But to have a fixed face etched in her brain, that beautiful man whose features rivaled that of the statues in the Louvre, she wondered if it had to do something with all the books she has been reading about the house or the house itself.

She was clearly upset, and she wasn’t ready to talk about such a disturbing dream like that with Reg. She was aware that Regina wasn’t really looking forward to this trip, because of her anxiety with the supernatural.  It was Pickering’s persuasion and the promise of a recommendation afterwards that pushed her on. Viv also suspected that maybe her friend had a dabble with the supernatural, considering the way Reg kept looking at things where nothing was to be seen.  Viv tried not to think about it. Much to her surprise the girl didn’t say anything as she just stood in front of the picture she was looking at, before crossing her arms and furrowing her eyebrows.

Regina scanned the photo with that one face scratched out, before parting her lips and raising her eyebrows, as if she just locked on a memory.

“So you’ve discovered the only surviving photograph of the Sinclairs.”

Vivienne found herself staring at Regina’s face when her friend’s voice snapped her out of her trance.

“The Sinclairs?” she asked, turning to look at the black and white picture that was encased behind a glassed frame, the photograph yellowing at the sides.

Regina nodded.

“You know,” she spoke up after scrutinizing the picture in silence, her arms still crossed. “The original owners of the house before the Delacroix reclaimed it from the Sharpes.”

Viv furrowed her eyebrows as she turned to look at her colleague.

“The Sharpes?” she said in complete confusion.

Regina turned to her with a knowing smile and nodded.

“Okay,” she said waving her hands around, as she felt her brain scan the somewhat familiar-sounding name from all the articles she has read on the Black Swan Manor. “I know you’re absolutely into research, but I’ve barely even heard of the Sharpes. They’re not even mentioned on the Black Swan Manor book I was reading about.”

Reggie turned to look at her, those brown eyes seemingly sparkling. She usually does this before standing up to recite in class, stunning Pickering in the middle of his discussion.

“Ah well yes,” she muttered, placing a finger on her lower lip. “The Sharpes weren’t really fond of this place nor the people were fond of them.” Her eyes seemed to go blank after that, as if she was trying to access something in her mind.

But her eyes would still return at that pale-faced young man who stood to the left of the portrait, with his calm expression and those sharp cheekbones.

“How that happened, we’re not so sure.” Then she turned to point at that seated girl in the middle of the picture.  “But that girl with the scratched out face? They say she’s the reason why the Sharpes gave up the house.”

Viv tore her eyes from the suspicious-looking gentleman and turned to look at the girl with the blanked out face with etches on them, only making out how she sat demurely with her hands on her lap. She could see a tuft of black hair, considering she wasn’t even sure if it’s black since all the pictures then were only black and white.

“Spooky.”

She let her eyes linger downwards, reading the inscription on the plaque installed on the bottom of the frame. She even lifted her hand and began to read out the names of the people who were supposedly in the picture, with Regina looking over her shoulder.

“ _Baron Richard Armand Delacroix with his wife Baronness Blaise Delacroix nee Sinclair, Sir Thomas Sharpe with his sister Lady Lucille Sharpe, and Miss Victoire Sinclair”_

Viv turned to look at the handsome young man standing behind his sister, suddenly recognizing him as the man whom she saw in the Gazebo, making her narrow her eyes at it… disbelieving what she saw.

 

Her finger shook she pointed at the picture. “Th-that’s the m-man I saw in the gazebo yesterday!”

 

The lights flickered once but Viv was too busy looking at Sharpe’s face to notice it.

“What?!” Even Regina’s voice began to shake. She did tell Viv and Pickering that she wasn’t keen on experiencing anything supernatural in this project and she prefer to just index and not get involved. But when her best friend started talking about men who lived almost two hundred years ago appearing at the patio, she couldn’t help but feel a little bit scared. “This photo is dated 1871!!!”

Viv turned to look at Regina, her eyes widening with confusion and fear. Somehow, somewhere in her brain, she regretted letting it slip to the jumpy Reggie about what she saw in the garden yesterday. But out of her shock of recognizing whoever that man was to be this Thomas Sharpe, she couldn’t control her lips from muttering it.

The lights flickered again.

 

“Alright,” Viv muttered as she pulled up Chrome on her old 5c blue-backed iPhone. “Let’s see what we can get on this Sharpe guy.”

 

Regina was looking over her shoulder, stepping away from the picture as she was getting freaked out by it. But the moment she did, she had to let out a small squeal as she jumped on her spot when all the lights flickered in the room.

 

Creepy thing was, so did Viv’s phone.

 

“What the fuck…” the girl squeaked as she began to press the buttons on the phone with the flickering screen. She swore she heard Regina keening beside her as she looked around nervously, as if she was waiting for something to happen.

The Chrome browser froze and even the backlight was flickering that she was tempted to repeatedly hit the malfunctioning phone against the hard wood of where the portraits and pictures were hung. Viv was already growling out of frustration and had already raised the 6-month-old phone up in the air, about to let plastic contact with old wood when all the lights in the parlor went out.

They could easily hear the air conditioning installed in the living room turn off as well, with the house being drenched in silence with all the electricity-powered machinery shutting down. They could hear the muttering of the people coming from the dining area.

Viv and Reg couldn’t help but look at each other worriedly during the blackout in the parlor (save for the open windows providing sunlight in the dark room) as if it was their fault.

Before they could even speak, shocked at the sudden occurrence of things within the first twelve hours in the manor, they were quickly interrupted by Chase who went to fetch them from the parlor, panting as he stood by the doorway.

“The electricity’s ded ferr the meantime,” he said in that thick Scottish accent as he tried to catch his breath. “Pickering suggests ye both go back to the dining area since it’s still cool.”

Suddenly, music could be heard from one of the rooms upstairs.

The three colleagues exchanged awkward glances as they tried to figure out where it was coming from but since they’re still unacquainted with the house, they just knew it was in one of those unexplored rooms.

What was really peculiar was that it sounded like a piano (though it has been reported that a few rooms had their own piano, with one of them removed from the East Wing after it burned down), with its keys delicately playing a familiar-sounding old song.

A shiver ran up Viv’s spine, and she turned to look at Regina and Chase only to realize that they’re frozen still like her as well.

“This is getting spookier,” the black-haired girl with the almond eyes said regretfully as Regina ran from her spot beside Viv in the middle of the room, quickly accompanying Chase towards the dining area.

Viv followed shortly, completely forgetting about the man in the picture behind her, and the girl with the scratched out face with her name labeled as _Victoire_.

 

 

***

 

Electricity was restored by one of the technicians from the nearby town in an hour, considering the head maid knew him personally and convinced him to have a visit. The fact that he didn’t have to stay overnight delighted him, and Edgerton (who was with the head maid when he spoke to the electrician) tried not to be bothered by it.

The whole restoration team was off to work the moment the lights were restored, as their “team leaders” (that were composed of the professors in charge of them) began to sort out and assign tasks for each and every one of the juniors involved.

Just as the majority of the youngsters were excited to explore one of the lower rooms that lead from the hallway in the middle of the East and West Wing, Pickering found himself taking aside one of his students, asking her a favor.

“Vivienne,” he muttered quietly as the girl looked up at him eagerly, while they stood outside their assigned rooms on the West Wing. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

For some reason, his tone made Viv cross her arms.

Pursing his lips, within the year that they knew each other with Viv as his student, he could already read the girl like a book with how she raised her eyebrows at him and crossed her arms. “Okay kiddo,” he continued. “We’re trying to get on Carlton’s good side…”

The two turned to look at the grumpy old historian who was barking orders at his assistant to follow the other researchers into the 2nd floor landing. Both of them winced.

“You do know that he’s one of the main benefactors of the Department and we really need his vote…” Pickering had to pause when Viv was unable to stop herself from snorting. The man rolled his eyes and put his hands together. “Viv.  PLEASE.”

“You tried to show him your paper on the Loch Ness Monster again, didn’t you?” she said, wearing that adorable, yet mischievous grin.

Pickering’s ears turned red. “It was more on the Scottish Legend’s Culture and Legacy!” Running a hand through his floppy brown hair, the man tugged on his collar and tried to calm down. “Viv, please. Between the very shy yet very brilliant Regina, who may end up having a debate with Carlton, and the very pleasant and witty you, well here I am asking you to do the Professor a favor.”

“What about Claire?”

Pickering lowered his eyes. “She won’t talk to me right now.”

Viv snorted again. “I’m not gonna ask about that.”

The man widened his green eyes at her and said, “What do you know?”

Holding up her hand, Viv said with a small smirk. “Calm down, sir. I’ll take care of your request. Just –“ she winced, as a naughty smile appeared on her lips. “Just speak to Claire for me okay? I don’t like her being so upset about…” she looks him from head to toe. “Things.”

As Pickering looked at her with his jaw hanging loose, Viv covered her mouth to stop herself from giggling further as she approached the supposedly intimidating Dr. Neil Carlton who has just dismissed a stressed-looking Bailey from his presence.

Summoning all her courage, Viv approached the man who was almost her height but had an attitude and an ego bigger than both of them combined. Dr. Neil Carlton after all was a credited historian and well known by most of the professors in New Orleans.

“Hello, sir,” she said politely, loud enough for the man in the thick glasses and the bowtie to turn around with his nose up in the air, eyeing her. “Since you sent Bailey to explore the inner rooms of the 2nd Floor Landing Hall,” she gestured to the mousy-looking boy who just left. “I’ll be offering my services to take pictures and reference all artifacts in the study that has been assigned to you. I believe it’s just at the end of this hall?”

The man didn’t seem pleased by her presence in the room. Realizing this, she back off a bit, until she found herself standing underneath the door frame. After all, she wasn’t properly invited inside. Wincing quietly to herself, she raised her head and questioningly waited for the man’s decision with a smile.

He looked her up from head to toe, smirking at the girl’s dirty red Converse shoes. “You’re one of Pickering’s girls,” he muttered. “You’re the one from Florida?”

“California, sir.”

The man brushed his moustache with a finger, before turning around and approaching the wooden dresser that was found in his room. Viv was afraid he was about to decline her offer and she’d have to think up of another way to soften the man up towards their team under Pickering when she found him opening one of the drawers and pulling out an old ornate key from his valuables temporarily packed in the space.

“Here’s the key to the study,” he said quietly, handing over the antique to Vivienne. “And what should I call you?”

Gratefully accepting the key, she smiled as she looked up. “My name is Vivienne, sir,” she started, before gesturing once more upon seeing the man furrow his eyebrows. “I do go by the name Viv.”

“Hm. Alright, Viv,” he said in a disinterested tone as he picked up one of his old manuscripts and started leafing through it as he sat on his bed. “You’re in charge of the documentation of the White Library.”

Vivianne found herself raising her eyebrows, to which the man looked at her and nodded in the direction of the door, where he believed to be the end of the hall to be. “That’s the study where I am supposed to do my research on the Maison du Cygne Sombre artifacts. Make sure you take a good sweep of the entire room,” he instructed. “I want every artifact listed, pictured, and filed.”

The girl pocketed the keys and nodded solemnly, wondering how much Pickering is gonna owe her once this is over. “Yes, sir.”

The man canted his hand and waved her back to him just about she was about to leave the threshold of his room, trying to get her attention. “And do upload the files to my online drive when you’re done. That cad Pickering has the credentials.”

Viv found herself blinking at how her Professor was described, not knowing whether to frown or to laugh. “Yes, sir.”

As she went back into the 2nd floor hallway, she almost bumped into Pickering again, who had his arms open, subtly asking her if their plan pushed through.

She approached him, waving the antique key up in the air.

Just as Pickering was about to start jumping for joy, Viv punched his arm and went, “You owe me a solo-room expedition upstairs later, Gerry.”

Viv couldn’t help but laugh when she saw that sour expression plastered on her Professor’s face, in reply to that nickname she just dropped.

 

 

***

 

_On the 2 nd Floor Landing..._

 

“Well, what do we have here?”

Three youths dressed in overalls with cleaning masks hanging from their ears and tucked underneath their chins approached the end of the 2nd Floor Landing Hall.

Chloe, Chase, and Bailey were tasked by their respective bosses to explore one of the major halls in the fourth floor, its doors barred. Originally, the fourth floor only had two rooms accessible according to the creepy caretaker, Mr. Peabody. The one they were currently looking at, its two ornate doors decorated with giant angels, were barred by two huge blocks of wood that Chase has started to hack down.

“What are you doing?” Chloe asked worriedly, trying to stop the big ginger from bringing his axe down on the chafing pieces of wood. Even Bailey stood nearby, looking horrified. “Mr. Peabody clearly told us that this one is out of bounds!”

Chase flashed a small grin from the side of his mouth, winking at the girl. “Ye don’t worry now, Chloey,” he said in that teasing tone as he managed to gently wrench his muscled arm from the girl’s tight grip. “Dr. Susan and Dr. Carlton had a wee talk wit Mrs. Duboix ‘an they persuaded her ta have this one room on the Restoration List as well.”

With a  huge cracking sound, the man managed to split the two boards nailed into the double doors in two. Signaling to the smaller boy by jerking his head, Chase got Bailey to help him wrench the wooden boards off the entrance, much to the shock and chagrin of the girl who were with them.

“C’mon now, Chloey,” Chase said affectionately to the girl, jerking his head towards the door once more. “Help me ‘an Bailey here wit a little push.”

Glaring at the him, the girl approached the wooden door and pushed her small frame against it, sandwiched between the two men. With a few heaves they managed to budge the door open, as the three stumbled inside a darkly-lit room, wider than the row of rooms combined in the 3rd floor in the West Wing, with barely any light source due to its windows that are seemingly boarded up as well.

The three young researchers pulled up their masks to shield themselves from the dust.

Looking for a light switch, Chase shined his flashlight on a side panel, asking his two companions to help him find something to light up the room. As Bailey held his own torch in his mouth, looking at another panel in between the grooves on the other side of the door; Chloe moved about the room, looking at the seemingly small bits of light peering through the old lace-patterned curtains.

The two boys quickly shielded their eyes from the sudden brightness of the light that came from the huge bay windows on one side of the hall as the blonde girl drew back the large heavy curtains.

“Woah,” were the muffled words that escaped Bailey’s mouth through the cloth piece as the three researchers found themselves standing in a room filled with paintings and portraits.

Bigger than those found in the parlor downstairs, the entire hall acted like an artistic academy’s salon with its paintings hung high from wall to wall. Some of them were recreations of classics such as Botticelli’s, Masaccio’s, Caravaggio, Dürer’s, even Michaelangelo’s and the like. Others were personal portraits, paintings depicting members of the Delacroix family as well as the Sinclairs.

But as they all there stood in awe of all the huge pictures that littered the walls from top to bottom, such grand treasures they couldn’t wait to tell their respective elders, the three youths found themselves staring at one big framed portrait that stood at the far end of hall. It served like a centerpiece, being only one of the five giant portraits that scanned the entire wall.

The peculiar thing about this one painting is the fact it was veiled from top to bottom.

 

 

_On the 3rd Floor, at the end of the hall..._

 

Viv felt lucky that lone key worked.

In fact, she wondered if there were any spare keys to the White Library in case this old, gnarled key decided that to disintegrate all by itself. When she realized that she might have to deal with that creepy caretaker Mr. Peabody, she swore that she’d try to take good care of this one copy Dr. Carlton handed her.

The White Library is just a few feet bigger than the average bedrooms found in the 3rd floor. Despite its every inch covered with cobwebs and dust, it had this comfortable feel to it, the smell of pine and tobacco reminding Viv of her grandfather’s own study back in the day. But compared to the old study room in that house where she grew up in, everything in the Library is light-colored, and decorated with beautiful woodcarvings of birds and fauna. An old bust of Descartes was sitting on a pedestal in a corner, trapped by two large wide-set couches that are draped by white dusty cloth, indicating they haven’t been used for a long time.

Viv found herself running a hand on the surface of the walnut desk that sat in the middle of the room, picking up a thick layer of dust underneath her white-gloved fingers. Pulling the cloth piece Regina provided her up over her mouth, she admired the two padded chairs with the dark varnished mahogany sculptures of wings decorating its frame before going over the dark and sooty carpet in the middle of the room.

That was when she found herself standing in front of a beautiful gold-framed mirror standing beside a taller dresser chest, its back against the wall with the fading wallpaper.

Taller than she was, the girl who was only around five feet high found herself looking at her reflection, also in overalls but in blue denim, her pouty lips covered by a light-colored face mask made with thin gauze, with her gloved hands gliding against the surface of the mirror.

“You,” she animatedly gestured to the mirror. “Shall be my first victim.”

Peeling a glove off her hand and setting it on the desk not far away from her reach, she reached from her pocket and took out her iPhone so she could get an initial snapshot of the mirror that she has decided to document first. After taking shots of different angles, she slipped the phone back into her pocket and pulled out a rag and a cleaning solution from the small pack hanging from her waist. She approached the mirror and slowly swiped a long stripe on the glossy surface, a clear difference showing how it was left during the past ten years or more and how it looked in all its glory.

As she began to work, brushing the reflective surface first as she tried to stretch on her tiptoes just to reach the edge of the glass, Vivienne found herself smiling behind the cloth mask as she spoke to the mirror in the silence of the room, knowing that she was alone and no one could hear her, at the same time, trying to convince herself that it’s okay that she’s all by herself and there’s nothing in that house that would scare her at that moment.

“You’re such a pretty thing aren’t you,” she spoke to the mirror. “I wonder what your story is all about…”

 

“I wonder when you were made…”

 

“Where were you made…”

 

“I wonder how many people have held you, ran their hand against you, and probably looked into you and saw themselves…”

 

Viv paused, smiling. She probably thought of herself silly that she’s talking to a mirror.

She snickered quietly to herself wondering if it would answer.

But of course, she knew she’d be horrified if it did.

 

“I wonder if they liked what they saw,” she mustered those words as she finished polishing the surface of the mirror, creating a huge swipe as she found herself staring at that odd reflection of herself in all that cleaning and anti-dust gear, somewhat amazed that she suddenly found herself in this project after taking a random exchange semester in Florida.

Viv just smiled to herself again as she began to work on the carved golden edges of the mirror.

 

“Ever had a pretty girl look right through you?” she spoke out loud with a chuckle.

 

By the time she turned to look at her reflection, she had to drop the rag she was holding.

It was her alright, but she wasn’t wearing the overalls she had packed for the trip at all, nor her face were covered by that cleaning mask she just put on earlier. In fact her reflection was mimicking what she was doing – one arm across the mirror as she tried to clean the wood carvings on the frame, but she looked... _different_.

Her gloves were gone, and her arm was covered by expensive white cloth that slowly expanded into a laced sleeve that was attached to a beautiful ornate dress adorned with patterns of flowers embedded into the fabric, a dress she swore she hadn’t seen before and _currently wasn’t on her person._

She turned around to get a better look at herself, her jaw dropping as she lowered her hand, the rag dropping onto the floor. The reflection followed her actions, but was not wearing that shocked expression on her face. She wore a calm smile and she could spot a tiny mole underneath her left eye, a beauty mark Vivienne knew she didn’t possess.

Gawking at the reflection, she looked at it from top to bottom, her hands growing cold as she began to reach out to touch the surface of the mirror –

 

_CRACK!_

 

The surface suddenly sprouted this sharp-veined fissure where her finger touched the surface. Viv withdrew her finger all of a sudden, backing away from the vision, only to realize that the image that was looking back at her was her old self dressed in the overalls and the cleaning clothes.

“Fuck –“ That was the first word that escaped her mouth, thinking about how Carlton would be so displeased that she has somewhat destroyed an artifact. Her hands were shaking from both that haunting vision that she wasn’t sure if it was from her own imagination or the house playing tricks on her, her worries shifted from the supernatural to the opinions of her colleagues as she turned to put her hand on her face.

The girl withdrew her gloved hand when she saw a spot of blood slowly staining the tip of her finger.

 

 

***

 

 

“Oh, dear,” Miss Caroline, one of the maids serving at the Manor exclaimed as she turned to look at the cut Viv received while she was upstairs, inspecting the White Library. “I’m not really a nurse but you’re lucky we have a first aid kit hidden right underneath the cupboards.”

The girl could only smile gratefully as she allowed the woman to fetch her tools. As much as she appreciated their service, the maids are only there during the day and they made it a point to leave the grounds while there was still daylight. No one liked staying in the Black Swan Manor after dark, and she could hear some of the workers whispering and looking at the researches worriedly during their first day before they left the premises. With what Vivienne had experienced in the Manor so far, she wouldn’t blame the hired help to be scrambling away from the house after dark.

She smiled at the gentle woman who was probably in her forties but looked younger than what she seemed, with that beautiful olive skin complimenting her youthful beauty. Miss Caroline looked at the wound again and then gently dabbed the blood away from her fingers, causing Viv to wince as the depth of the cut began to show. She didn’t expect the mirror to be that sharp, but the fact that it cracked on its own...

At that exact moment Viv didn’t know which she should be more afraid of: Carlton being disappointed with the cracked mirror in his study, or the fact that she seemed to be haunted by a ghost that liked playing tricks through mirrors.

“Ow,” she groaned once more as the help took another look at the wound, squeezing the sides of her finger.

“Alright, lassie,” Miss Caroline spoke as she nodded towards the sink. “Have that finger washed first before I apply the salve.”

“Sure,” Viv muttered as she painstakingly peeled off her other glove, considering that she couldn’t use her aching pointer finger. She sauntered over to the old kitchen sink with a few dirty dishes still in them as she turned the tap on.

The girl bit her lip in pain as she ran her wound underneath the cold water, cleansing it as instructed. She clenched and unclenched her hand, trying to get the blood to flow, as a few more droplets fell on the white dishes underneath the sink. And during the entire time all she could think of was how on earth she is going to wash off the blood stains on her white gloves.

Vivienne looked up to find herself face to face with a window that showed the back garden and the hedges that led to a beautiful maze at the back of the manor.

She squinted as she realized that she can make out the gazebo she almost entered a day before, standing in the distance to her right.

She looked down to turn off the tap, still wincing from the pain as she looked back up.

Viv froze on the spot.

 

Just a few feet away from the window stood the man.

 

 **_HIM_ ** **.**

 

He was in the same outfit she saw him yesterday: the beautiful black satin waistcoat wrapped around his thin frame, with the pitch black coat billowing behind him even if there was no wind blowing through the garden at all.

What made Viv hold her breath was the presence of the black cravat that was wrapped around his neck, tied in a delicate knot. She felt the pain from her wound numbing and her entire brain blanking out as she remembered the dream she had last night.

The girl tore her eyes from the window, breathing shallowly, walking stiffly towards Miss Caroline, still cradling her wounded hand.

“Why so pale, child?” the maid said in surprise as Viv took a seat on the dining table in front of her, stretching out her hand. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

Vivienne didn’t want to believe that she did.

And she didn’t want to say at all that when she turned away from the window, the man she saw seemed to be crying.

What’s worse was that he seemed to be crying tears of blood.


	5. Concerning Miss Claire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weird occurrences continue to plague the Mansion, bothering its current inhabitants. While this goes on, a strange entity seems to go after Claire Benton in the middle of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [Wolfie](http://iamthebadwolf85.tumblr.com) for proofing this chapter! <3

“Jesus CHRIST, VIVVIE!”

 

“I know – I KNOW!”

 

The girl flung her hands upwards, with her pointer finger now wearing a gauze. Under Miss Caroline’s instructions, she was supposed to change it at least twice a day until it scabbed over. Bringing it back down, she found herself looking at Regina’s worried yet admonishing expression, making her feel even more guilty.

“It’s not my fault the mirror cracked.” Viv found herself grinding her teeth remembering that there’s that mirror issue she has to deal with. It wasn’t going to look good on her report.

But then she remembered that haunting vision she saw.

Of what she believed to be of herself.

“It’s just…”

Regina suddenly interrupted her. “What happened to the mirror?”

Pausing in the middle of her pacing, Vivienne turned around with her hand on her hip to face her friend. “I... I draped cloth over it.” Her mouth twitched. She remembered having to haul off one of the draped fabrics on one of the vintage sofas just so she can hide the mirror and the damage she inflicted on it. Or were she really the one who caused it to crack?

Viv found herself sitting down on her bed with a huff. “Carlton is going to be pissed,” she muttered, awkwardly reaching for her phone behind her with her wounded hand.

“Pickering is going to kill you,” Regina said, unable to hide a snicker.

The taller girl with the dark brown, almost black hair made a face and turned to look at her friend. “Pickering?” she snorted. “Kill me?”

The brunette with the thick glasses let out a little laugh. “Yeah,” she said as she began to unfold her blankets, readying herself for bed. “You’re right. I don’t think that’s gonna happen.”

Her taller friend suddenly raised an eyebrow, suddenly surprised with the woman taking back her words.

It had been a long day and everyone had done some work around the Manor. No one was completely aware about Viv’s little “accident” and she made sure that no one noticed it so it wouldn’t get to Carlton. But she knew the Professor would find out about it eventually. If anyone else aside from Regina noticed the bandage on her finger, she’d say it’s just a little slip up with a sharp edged letter opener in a study drawer. It just so happened that there is no way she could lie to this girl, and the moment Reggie saw her locking up the White Library with the gauze on her finger, she knew that Viv had gotten herself in trouble. And the fact that she’s quite the clumsy little git couldn’t support her claim that it’s “just a splinter from a stupid piece of wood”. Despite being found out, even she can’t even bring herself to tell Regina about the vision she saw, knowing about Reggie’s sensitivity with the weird and supernatural.

Viv wrinkled her nose and said, “Yeah why not?”

“You’re Pickering’s favorite!” Regina mused, smiling brightly at her friend, almost sniggering.

Turning her phone around in her hands and entering her password, she smirked and said, “Look who’s talking.” Vivienne raised her head and crossed her legs on the bed as she began to look through her messages, while the WiFi Pickering installed that afternoon wasn’t being wonky.

“Me?” Regina started, snuggling under the blanket. “No way.”

Viv snorted as she pulled up her Chrome browser. The moment the screen popped up with Google on standby, the girl found herself narrowing her eyes as she saw that interrupted net search she was supposed to do before her phone unceremoniously shut down _._

“Well come on,” the taller brunette snorted as she sat with her back to the girl, fiddling with her phone. “Between you and me,” Viv enunciated sardonically with her eyebrow raised as she pulled up the first item on her Google search on _Thomas Sharpe_. “Who is the one struggling to finish her undergrad and who is already running for her Masterals comprehensive exam?”

The page she was loading titled “ _30 Most Controversial Manors in Old London_ ” never finished as all of a sudden her phone screen flickered and turned itself off.

 

Not to mention that power went out in the Black Swan Manor.

 

“ _FUCKING SH –”_

 

Viv wasn’t able to finish her sentence when Regina’s ear piercing wail shook the room.

 

“ _EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_ ”

 

Unable to see in the pitch black dark (as the lights from outside the house also went out), Viv did not even bother to wait for her eyes to adjust. Suddenly terrified of her phone, she threw the gadget against the headboard as she quickly bounded out of bed and jumped beside a still screaming Regina. Not noticing how her terribly abused iPhone (that had nothing to do with the weird occurrences in the house) bounced against the wooden headboard and fell on her pillow face down, Viv quickly covered her best friend’s mouth to stop her from screaming further.

Eyes wide in the darkness, it took Regina at least five more minutes to calm down, the two seeking refuge in the sound of each other’s breathing. They suspiciously looked around the wide bedroom in the dark, as if they were expecting something to crawl out from under the bed.

“Is,” Viv found herself muttering slowly. “Is it okay if I sleep in your bed tonight, Reggie?”

With the taller brunette’s hand still on her mouth, the girl mechanically nodded her head.

Without saying a word, both girls crawled underneath the covers, shivering.

 

 

***

 

 

_Wrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr— crck!_

 

 

“GODDAMN IT!”

 

 

Almost the same time during the blackout, a whirring sound came to an abrupt halt, causing someone to angrily curse in the room just across the two frightened ladies who decided to bunk up in one bed.

Bolting up to a sitting position, a sweating Claire shook the pink phallic gadget in her hand that wouldn’t emit the same noises it was doing earlier. Turning a few knobs here and there, the girl was reduced to hitting the vibe repeatedly on the headboard when her nightlight suddenly flickered.

 

 

The girl found herself looking at the small shell-shaped light socket she brought from her dorm suddenly get snuffed out as if it was a candle.

Surrounded in darkness, realizing that electricity just got cut all of a sudden, Claire fell back on her bed, still panting from her earlier activities. Despite previous experiences and earlier circumstances, this time around she ensured that she had taken precautions with whatever it was she was doing. Panties completely off, her trousers neatly folded at the edge of her bed, with her blankets pooled around her legs to easily snag it with her feet in case trouble arose in the middle of her _activities_. And this time she made sure that the door was locked.

 _That keeps away nosy little string beans_ , Claire thought playfully about her colleague. As much as she loved Viv the way Regina did and respected her the way Pickering treated her, Claire who (despite her _not-so discussed yet clearly obvious relations with the Professor_ ) considered the girl her dear colleague, couldn’t help but feel identify Vivienne as some sort of competition mainly due to her casual openness and closeness with the Professor. Not to mention the reciprocation. Or maybe it’s the fact that Gerard Pickering actually trusts his student and sees her more like a sister.

“Like a sister my ass,” Claire mumbled underneath as she shook her vibe again, hoping the batteries would jumpstart. “My older brother doesn’t look at me like that, he often looks disgusted,” she muttered to herself as she dislodged and reinserted the batteries again, her exposed breasts underneath her pink tank top hiked up her chest heaving.

 _And these damned batteries. Of all the things why would I forget about them –_ All of a sudden, what bothered her was that _she just put in new batteries just the other day_.

“Damn it,” the blonde finally hissed as she stopped fidgeting with the sex toy and let her hands fall still to her sides. Between her unresponsive device, her aching clit, and those rose-colored tits that needed attention, all she could do was lie on her back, close her eyes, and try to calm down despite her sexually frustrating predicament.

With the her surroundings unlit and the surety that the door wouldn’t budge open, Claire suddenly felt blanketed by the darkness and everything she would do is privy only to the secrecy of the absence of light.

She could feel a cool breeze caress her skin as her eyes remained closed, slightly drying her sweat-slicked skin and making the goosebumps rise on her flesh. Her idle hands lying to her sides suddenly began to twitch and move slowly towards the center of her abdomen, letting her delicate fingers settle on the creamy surface of her skin as she let them move downwards.

That was when she realized that despite the uselessness of that stupid device, _she has hands after all_.

Licking her lips, the blonde woman quietly stretched her legs and feet, almost letting her soles touch the surface of the footboard on the edge of her bed. As she felt heat pool around her center, Claire let out a soft sigh when her fingers found her already moist folds, being pleasured earlier by her toy. The girl let her fingers listen to the rhythm of her body and her arousal as she began to touch and massage deeper in the same manner she used her vibe before it decided to die on her. Making sure to take a gentle swipe at her throbbing clit, she also slowly massaged around her clitoral hood with the pad of her fingers. Claire sighed knowing that somehow despite circumstances – maybe she’d come to that climax she’d been trying to deal with since that afternoon she had a glaring session with _Gerry_ and get some good night’s rest, ready for the next day.

Increasing the tension in between her legs, the woman felt a soft breeze blow over her scantily-clad body, causing her nipples to perk up even further.

Letting out a soft moan, she released her other hand from gripping the top of her headboard as she guided it towards her erect left tit, pinching and pulling it with her slender digits in tune with how she slowly began to fuck herself with her fingers.

With her motions quickening and her orgasm building, Claire closed her eyes and dug her chin towards her bare chest, almost curling up in a fetal position as well as biting her lip to stop herself from screaming out her climax...

When she finally took notice of that _weird cold breeze passing_ _right over her_ when she was sure she closed her windows. She suddenly felt something hot and wet curl up against her other unattended nipple, causing an electric jolt to go through her body.

Eyes flinging wide open, Claire quickly kicked off her sheets and found herself staring at the darkness of her room as she backed up towards the headboard, sitting up as she did so. Quickly retrieving her now dripping fingers from between her legs, she looked around her room frantically as she tried to process why a _disembodied tongue_ would suddenly swipe up at her.

She found  that the door remained closed, there was no one else in her room, and that she was alone.

Unable to bring herself back up to orgasm, the girl just drew up the covers and hid her head underneath it, as she curled up on her bed, willing herself to sleep and forget about whatever that was she had probably imagined in the middle of her jilling session.

She thought she saw a suspicious shadow retreating to the corners of her room as she panted and looked around after that horrible sensory experience, but Claire preferred if she just imagined it.

 

 

***

 

 

_She swore she heard him moan against her mouth._

_Claire knew that cologne so well that she just yielded to those strong arms that drew her hands back and pinned it against the headboard, allowing those luscious lips to devour hers. Not even bothering to open her eyes, she kissed him back with much fervor as she sighed into that mouth the moment his big hands started roaming down her naked body, with her shirt hiked up to expose her full breasts and her legs devoid of pants or underwear_.

_The blonde felt herself sigh as she felt his mouth brush willingly and eagerly against her left breast, nuzzling his head into her chest before his lips eventually found that sensitive bud, nipping and licking till she squirmed. Claire happily and playfully struggled against his hold against both her wrists, enjoying the unusual strength her secret lover was exerting._

_That was when she heard Gerry chuckle against her bare abdomen._

_Biting her lip, Claire could only await eagerly as she felt the man trace her other unattended nipple with a wet finger, presumably placed in his mouth following that loud slick pop she heard before she felt pressure on her left breast._

_And slowly, ever so slowly, she felt him trace a trail of wet fire from her exposed tit down her navel until she swore that his ever so naughty finger that was often used to point out her mistakes in her dissertations were now playfully nudging aside her folds, slowly going for her throbbing clit._

_“Oh yes,” she moaned without opening her eyes, feeling him release her wrists in order to focus in her lower regions, as she felt him move his mouth down to her hip, chuckling all the way._

_Claire felt herself moan out loud the moment she felt the man’s tongue dart out of his lips as he neared her folds in between her legs._

_Nothing could make the blonde even wetter, knowing that she finally had achieved what she had been wanting to do with Pickering since they arrived in the Manor. They both had made a bet that Pickering wouldn’t be able to restrain himself from going over to her room and finally fucking her, considering that she managed to convince him to fuck back in the University grounds – whether it was in the study, the library, the broom closet, the conference room, or what have you. Yes, they were on a research trip, and despite being left on their own they were still surrounded by esteemed colleagues; doing such a naughty thing like what they were used to executing on school grounds just felt as taboo as it usually goes, but is as deliciously tempting as the next kink they both wanted to try._

_Now she was pretty sure that her Gerry had something to do with the blackout. Was it possibly a way to ensure that they wouldn’t get caught? Or maybe it was his way to ensure that he’d win the bet with less chances of Claire identifying him in the dark? It’s also possible.  With him sucking her in between her legs while teasing her cunt with his fingers, the blonde could only lick her lips knowing that she had won._

_The professor then eased two fingers in her, causing the girl to throw her head back and bite her lip, swallowing her moans. A little bit louder and she’d be sure to wake up the meddling bean and the intelligent little mouse in the other room._

_“Oh Gerry,” she found herself smiling as she muttered, her hands finding their way towards those brown curls sitting on top of his head, kneading and tugging all the way as he salivated, sucked, and licked through her folds._

_Claire couldn’t hold back on another moan as it escaped her mouth, the moment the man started curling his fingers within her, causing her to release his hair in her fingers, stretching her body like a cat._

_The moment she found herself again, frustrated and wanting, she finally found the need to open her eyes as she pulled the man off her cunt._

_“Fuck me.”_

_However, the moment his head rose from between her legs, it had a face that did not belong to Gerard Pickering at all._

_Claire screamed._

 

 

***

 

The blonde opened her eyes, swearing she heard herself scream.

The power still seemed to be out.

Looking around, she noticed that she could move her head… but not her body.

She could feel her hands shake, but she could not move them. Slowly and hesitantly drawing her eyes down, she found her body in the same state as she had in _that dream_ she had earlier – almost stark naked, devoid of underwear, and her tits completely perked up despite the lack of contact and the dry air in the room.

For a moment she had a sinking feeling that her claims were wrong; that Gerard Pickering did not take up on her offer at all. Suddenly remembering that horrifying revelation in her dream of that face that popped up from between her legs, Claire felt like she should start to become legitimately scared of the Manor. Despite the stories being told and the weird events that had been happening, she began to question the point of the blackout if no one else had caused it.

She felt her heart drop when she suddenly felt something wet and slimy flick against her cunt.

The woman could only watch in horror as a head emerged from between her legs, but it was too dark to even identify the features or even make out his face. She felt her covers sag and the mattress creak when the dark figure suddenly crawled on top of her, blocking her view of the room.

Claire wanted to scream, but her voice was stuck in her throat and all she could hear was the sound of her frantically beating heart and the heavy breathing the stranger was doing on top of her.

There was however one tiny detail she noticed; despite the darkness and the lack of light to illuminate her assailant’s face, she could see a pair of crystal blue eyes that were so clear and so deep, it felt like it was piercing into her soul.

That was when she realized that it was the same pair of eyes she saw on the stranger’s face in her dream.

She realized that maybe it wasn’t a dream after all.

Claire found herself shrieking so loud, it should have woken up everyone else in the house.

But before she could do anything, the mysterious dark figure suddenly slipped their dark hands underneath her head and grabbed at her long golden tresses, tilting her face upwards. Silencing her screams with a rough kiss, the stranger’s mouth tasting of something rotten that made her gag, Claire could only shudder in fear when he released her lips with a pop, those blue eyes only identifiable in the dark as he glared down at her.

“ ** _You are mine_ ,**” an unearthly voice escaped his lips as she felt a hand part her folds, causing the woman to tremble in fear.

She suddenly felt her body shudder as her cunt was suddenly filled with something that completely stretched her walls, causing her arousal to pool around the thick cock she couldn’t see. As much as it would have been pleasurable, Claire couldn’t help but whimper in fear as the stranger covered her mouth with a gloved hand, shielding her noises as he completely rutted within her walls.

The woman screamed and screamed against the leather glove without help or reprieve the entire night as that cock violated her over and over again, until the stranger came and she helplessly passed out in his ghostly arms.

 

 

***

 

 

Power wasn’t restored until seven thirty in the morning, thanks to Mr. Peabody’s own tinkering skills. For some reason, they didn’t want to get the electrician and that old man wouldn’t bother going to the manor either.

Everyone didn’t get a good night’s sleep, as you could see through annoyed faces and sleepy expressions all around the breakfast table. This time Vivienne sat beside a similarly-sleepy Regina, both girls nursing cups of coffee as they toyed with their breakfasts, seemingly not in the mood to finish it. Both girls said nothing when they woke up huddled towards each other, and Viv found the courage to pick up her maltreated iPhone from her own bed, realizing that it powered itself on its own. Shrugging it off, both girls just prepared for breakfast, trying to speak about the events from the night before.

However, as she faced her breakfast of poached eggs and toast, with a slice of cheese and a tomato on the side, Viv couldn’t help but peek on her phone in her third attempt to make that _Google Search_ about that suspicious Sharpe fellow whose name she couldn’t erase from her brain the moment she saw it scribbled under that plaque the other day.

It was just weird that when she opened up her browser – her history records _were clean_.

This made her heart drop into her stomach uncomfortably as she tucked her phone away, knowing that she managed to pull up at least a page on the man who lived more than a hundred years ago.

Just as Viv decided that she’d give up on finishing her breakfast and make up for it over a hearty lunch instead, she suddenly had to look up from her plate when she found a tall man in a wooly sweater shadowing her unfinished breakfast.

There were also black circles underneath his eyes as he shuffled uncomfortably in his golf shoes. The poor man had been frantically backing up all the files his students had submitted to him when the blackout occurred, and he wasn’t even sure what kept him up – his hard drive malfunctioning or the weird sounds he had been hearing through the house. Of course, like everyone, Pickering pretended he didn’t hear anything.

However, despite his tendency to remain calm and cool ever since they arrived at the Manor, the professor looked around worriedly, with a small twitch appearing over his eye. He seemed to be looking around for someone, and that was when the usually observant Viv (who really didn’t want to exert her efforts that day) saw that one seat in the dining hall was unoccupied.

“You girls know where Claire is?” Pickering asked worriedly.

The woman who happened to sleep just beside their room wasn’t found in the dining area that morning, causing Viv to actually turn her head around, looking for the missing blonde girl. Scratching her head, the brunette suddenly couldn’t help but think that she didn’t hear _anything peculiar_ from Claire’s own room during the blackout, after what she found her doing the other night. But of course, she and Regina had been too horrified with their own reactions when the power went out, to a point that they just spent an hour shivering against each other and trying to get to sleep.

“Nope,” Reggie took the words out of Viv’s mouth before she can even answer, as the girl in the long skirt stood up, bringing her plate with her, heading for the kitchen. “We haven’t seen her since last night.”

Scratching her head, Viv shrugged at Pickering too, who just solemnly nodded and followed them both to the kitchen, plates and cups of coffee in hand.

“Seriously, Pickering,” the taller girl who tried to balance the utensils in her hands and the iPhone she’s holding. “How can you lose track of a girl who literally is more eye-catching than all of the naked statues found in the Sculpture Room?”

The tall man dropped his jaw, seemingly woken up from his self-made stupor, as he raised a finger in retort to the cheeky girl’s comment.

“Also she’s almost always hot on your tail,” Viv said with a little giggle as she handed over her utensils to one of the house-helps, as she pocketed her phone and prepared herself to wash her hands over the sink.

“She is not!” The man exclaimed in completely defense, despite his cheeks turning red as he crossed his arms, ignoring the chuckling coming from Regina as she washed her hands.

Viv raised an eyebrow at the man as she prepared to wash her hands, rolling up her sleeves. Suddenly noticing the gauze on her finger, she suddenly whined as she contemplated taking it off before wetting her hands. Realizing that she can probably change it after her bath, she was about to get her hands under the sink when Regina sat transfixed at the window, seemingly looking at something outside.

“Speaking of Claire,” she said in a quiet voice, staring at a distance. “She’s just right there.”

The tall professor and his young charge quickly went to either side of the smaller girl and looked over the window, getting a glimpse of the pink-hooded woman who was standing idly in the same garden where Regina and Viv took a walk on their first day in the manor. Claire was just standing there, with her yellow-straw hair seemingly ruffled, as she stared at a distance, her blue eyes blank.

“What on earth?” The voice that escaped Pickering seemed to shake.

“That’s curious,” Regina said in a deep, sleepy voice as Viv and Pickering exchanged worried looks. “Why is she standing alone in the garden?”

Vivienne couldn’t help but feel awkward as she saw her colleague just standing there in the cold morning, with the breeze just passing right through her as if she was a young neglected tree. She swore that she had seen this scene before, but with a sleepy-looking Regina blocking her vantage point and Pickering clucking his tongue just right beside her, the girl just couldn’t put a finger on it.

Claire suddenly turned towards the two of them with her blank stare, her blue eyes looking more prominent than ever.

An image of a pair of crystal clear blue eyes crying tears of blood suddenly slammed into the girl’s memory, causing her to shiver and back off from the window, realizing that Claire was standing on the same spot the black-ascot-wearing man in the black waistcoat was standing when she was mending her wounds yesterday.

Suddenly, Viv knew something must be wrong with Claire… or it was just a coincidence.

Nonetheless, amidst Pickering and Regina’s silence, she decided not to say a thing.

 

 

***

 

 

“Alright,” she called out, pulling off her mask as she stepped out of the White Library, calling to the Regina who was still taking pictures behind her. “I’ll just get washed up a bit. I’ll be back.”

She didn’t know whether it was a worried Pickering who suggested that Regina accompany the girl after her little “accident” in the room or it was a distrustful Carlton who requested that Vivianne Bennett not to be alone in the White Library after the 300-year-old French mirror had been cracked.

As for Viv, she should have been even more bothered, considering that Regina has the sixth sense. Seriously, how would you be able to focus on your documentation, when your best friend informs you before bed that you were cleaning up a chest with a dead girl looking up at you with blood-shot eyes?

Luckily for her, Regina said nothing. In fact, the girl was so enamored with the manuscripts and books she found hidden in one of the cabinets Viv seemed to have overlooked. She took most of the afternoon documenting them, taking pictures and writing down excerpts from every single manuscript she opened. The taller girl swore that Regina might even go overtime with the documentation and continue work there even after dark. Sometimes, Viv envied her friend’s dedication and bravery. For someone who is that intelligent with so much knowledge acquired during her time at the University, something always piqued her interest, and she never stopped searching. And despite her traumatizing experiences based on those personal stories Regina told her about her third eye, Viv couldn’t help but wonder if she already had that sixth sense closed with the fact that Reg hadn’t said a thing about anything ever since they set foot in the Black Swan Manor.

In fact, Viv was worried that it might have been possible that Regina’s gift might have been transferred over to her.

Mulling over her thoughts as she entered their shared room, Viv decided to shake it off and continue with what she was supposed to do, reminding herself that she needed to return. She then went to work as she went into the bathroom and washed her face. Her cheeks still dripping with the cold water, she found herself looking at her drenched hands, her gauze dripping wet.

Clucking her tongue, she thought about taking out that shared first aid kit from her luggage as she walked out of the bathroom, toweling her face. The moment she removed it from her head, she paused in her tracks, realizing she was not alone.

She turned her head towards the door that was open, creaking softly.

Outside in the hall stood Claire, looking at her with her head tilted.

“Hey,” Viv almost squeaked, although she managed to stay calm despite being surprised by the blonde girl. “I didn’t notice you there.”

Claire did not reply.

“You know,” Viv promptly ignored her silence and continued speaking, awkwardly opening her bag, trying to look for the first aid kit that Regina entrusted with her. “Pickering was very worried about you.” She rummaged through her things till she found that box with the red lid. “He was asking us where you went.”

She popped the lid open and began to search for the huge wad of gauze and the silver scissors, when she suddenly looked up to find Claire now standing by the door, still looking at her peculiarly with those blank eyes.

“He was wondering if you’re alright...” Her voice trailed off as she raised an eyebrow at the girl, trying to remember if she saw or felt her move during the entire time she was talking. Viv just told herself that maybe she’s just imagining things. But with Claire’s pale complexion as if she had never been out of the sun for a week, along with that vacant expression on her face, Viv couldn’t help but feel worried.

“Are you alright?”

Claire did not reply.

However, she took a huge step forward.

Bothered by the sudden movement, Viv fell seated on the bed, seemingly trying to ignore her friend’s mechanically absurd movements, trying to forget that the Claire she knew has a certain bounce on her feet and a little sway on her hips... not this zombie-like, stiff gait she was displaying in front of her right now.

“Anyway,” Viv exclaimed, shaking her head as she set the first aid box aside having found what she need. “You should approach Edgerton. I think he has a suggestion with your assignment in the Master’s suite.”

The girl had began to peel the adhesives attached to keep the gauze on her finger, although for some reason her hands began to shake, giving her quite the difficulty to complete the task. For some reason, her clumsy fingers accidentally scraped at the wound. Hissing, Viv bit her lip, withdrawing her hands from her wounded finger.

“Let me help,” the voice that escaped the blonde girl sounded so monotonous and ethereal, that Viv couldn’t help but look up when she saw Claire glide from the door and across the room, quickly taking her place in front of her. The girl dropped on her knees and gently took her hand, as she began to unravel the gauze that was wrapped around her wounded finger.

“Claire,” the girl worriedly chimed in, as she saw her friend’s dexterous fingers slowly working on hers, completely peeling the gauze off her finger with one graceful stroke. “You really don’t have to!”

Viv tilted her head this time, watching her colleague cradle her hand and lifting her finger with the healing wound up in the air, as if she was tenderly gazing at it. What bothered Vivienne was the fact that this wasn’t like Claire after all – the blonde was most likely to move with such sharp jabs, unrefined movements, and would have probably painfully pulled at her wounded finger just to laugh at her demise.

This quiet, gentle Claire? Wasn’t her at all...

The girl felt uncomfortable at that very moment, shifting on her seat. “I can do this myself, you don’t…”

 

Viv felt her blood run cold when she felt Claire brush her lip against her wound.

 

Quickly backing away, almost knocking down her own first aid kit, she found herself muttering frantically to her colleague. “Wh-what are you doing?”

For some reason, her head remained bowed as Viv scrambled over the bed in shock, backing away from her colleague who was still kneeling on the floor emotionless. “Claire,” Viv breathed, trying to get her friend to look at her, upon noticing that she wasn’t responding. “Claire! _Claire!_ ”

She felt as if her body froze over as the blonde raised her head only to give her a clear view of her crystal blue eyes filled with emotions so raw with passion that she swore this is the kind of look the _Claire she knew_ would give to Pickering if she were completely in love with him...

But the thing is, Vivienne knew that Claire isn’t completely that serious with Gerard.

And she wasn’t that in love –

Something fearful trickled as a shiver down her back when she realized that Claire’s eyes started to water, in the same manner she saw them in the garden.

However, Viv felt completely immobilized on the bed when the blonde gracefully got up on her feet to stand in front of her bed... only to climb on top of the mattress, slowly and painstakingly crawling towards her body curled up against the headboard.

“Claire,” the brunette squeaked, as she held both her arms out to hold her friend back. Her wounded finger hit the blonde’s shoulder, causing her to wince, and this was the chance the other girl took as she quickly took Viv’s wrist and held it against the headboard.

A gasp escaped the brunette’s mouth when she found herself completely immobilized, her colleague holding both her hands. Sweat was dripping from Claire’s forehead, and yet her eyes remained blank. She knelt so close to Viv’s face that all she could see was the blue... and it made her shiver.

“You’re scaring me...”

 

That was when Viv saw her eyes flutter.

 

Claire suddenly leaned in and pressed the most heartfelt, sincere gentle kiss on the woman’s lips, leaving Viv’s eyes as wide as saucers as she felt the heat sear from her friends lips and onto hers.

Her eyes remained open all the time, as she looked at her in horror – kissing her oh so gently with her pale eyelids closed, her lips pursed as if she was completely savoring the moment. As much as she wasn’t keen on kissing a colleague, Viv was pretty sure at that moment that despite circumstances – she was sure that she never implicated that she’d swing the other way.

 

But what bothered her even further is the fact that she knew that Claire _was straight_.

 

How on earth can this kiss make sense now?

 

The pale blonde released her lips with a gentle smack, causing Viv to part her mouth – the words frozen in her throat as she watched Claire retract her head back in the most mechanical manner. What horrified Viv even further was the same passionate expression her friend was wearing when she opened her eyes and quietly flit her eyelids in her direction.

Wincing from the discomfort brought about by the sensual kiss implicated on her by her female colleague, Viv squinted up at her only to hear _a voice escape Claire’s lips that did not belong to the woman at all_ as she ran her cold thumb against the girl’s quivering lower lip...

 

“ ** _You were mine._** ”

 

 


	6. Possession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something was very wrong with Claire and Vivienne has no power left in her hands to stall her friend. What happens next somewhat jeopardizes the peace among the colleagues working in the mansion.

**Chapter 5: Possession**

A shiver ran from the girl’s spine, causing Viv to shut her eyes closed once more. What she didn’t see is the pleased expression that formed on Claire’s face – an expression she isn’t usually known for doing. She pursed her lips and looked tenderly at her colleague, tilting her head forward, almost tucking her chin into her neck.

“I d-don’t –” Viv stammered, trying to wrench her hands free of the other girl’s strong grip. “I don’t understand!”

A question seemed to have formed on Claire’s face, but it was immediately erased as she just smiled sweetly at her captive, leaning close towards her again.

“I th-thought you wanted Gerry…”

Viv felt the rest of her question sink towards the back of her throat as she felt Claire lean closer towards her again, their faces were almost pressing together, the other woman’s nose gently nuzzling her cheek. In the middle of it all, she barely noticed how Claire placed both of her  wrists captive on the wooden headboard behind her, affixing them both in one strong grip as her other free hand began to slowly stray towards the hem of Vivienne’s shirt.

“Claire!” Her wails fell on deaf ears as the blonde girl continued to move as if she was in a trance, brushing her nose against Viv’s porcelain skin as she lifted her shirt upwards, her lips brushing against the mound of her breast, still hidden behind a brassiere. “What are you doing?!”

Her voice choked up on her throat when Claire found out that it unhooked from the front, quickly cupping one exposed breast in her hand, leaning her head down, capturing one nipple in her mouth.

A desperate, hopeless wail escaped Viv’s lips as she struggled so hard to free her wrists from Claire’s grip, as she felt her body slowly being violated by the woman’s mouth as she left wet open-mouthed kisses on her bare chest.

But what horrified Vivienne the most is that Claire kept looking into her eyes with those blank blue pupils, not even blinking once, not even showing any other emotion except that of utter obsession.

 

An ear-piercing scream filled the room.

 

Her lips parted; Viv turned to look, only to realize that the voice did not come from her.

The sound of a heavy box falling on the wooden floor could be heard as Viv saw that the door to her room was left open and a horrified-looking Regina was standing right in front of it, her documents of the first few days of their stay in the Black House Manner scattering all over the floor with a loud, sickening thud.

Both girls stood to stare at each other in horror as the catatonic-faced Claire continued nipping at Viv’s now-bare chest as though she didn’t notice the commotion.

With the color draining from Regina’s face as she watched the helpless Viv try to free herself from the blonde’s powerful grasp (considering her size that was only close to the brunette), she remained frozen in her midst until she snapped out of her trance upon hearing the words weakly escape her trapped friend’s lips.

 

“ _Help me_.”

 

 

***

 

 

Who knew that Regina’s scream was a homing beacon.

It quickly alerted Bailey and Chase onto the scene, with a horrified Chloe looking on once she saw what was happening on one of the beds in Regina and Vivienne’s room. But even with how they tried to crash in the scene Regina was continually screaming about, the two boys couldn’t move without trying to avoid looking at Viv awkwardly, with Claire sprawled on top of her.

After all, the brunette was trying so hard to remain decent, as she seemed to have painfully wrenched her wrist free from the supposedly feeble and thin blonde’s grasp, pulling her shirt down. But despite her struggle for control, Claire continued on with what she was doing, leaving indecent kisses on Viv’s chest.

Bailey at first tried to get the blonde off his colleague, wincing as he moved closed upon seeing and exposed Viv. But to his surprise, Claire just held up a hand and with _an unusual amount of power for a thin woman,_ pushed the boy off her person with one swift stroke, sending him crashing across the room with _._

It was only when Chase managed to use his prime strength to wrench the blonde girl off the poor History major that Viv quickly pulled her shirt down and ran over to Regina to cover her mouth.

The young Scot seemed to have some difficulty trying to hold the blonde woman, as Claire thrashed wildly with her underarms locked in Chase’s arm grip. She flailed and struggled, as Chase gritted his teeth, clearly trying to take control of the situation. Realizing that the man was much stronger than she was, Claire finally calmed down, staring blankly down at the floor with her blank blue eyes as she let her limbs dangle loose as she was in Chase’s arms.

“Are you alright?” It was the one who was earlier been assaulted who was asking that question to the girl who saw her in that compromised position.

“I,” Regina’s voice was shaky. “It s-should be m-me who should be as-asking that.” She started to calm down in the other girl’s arms as Viv began to stroke Regina’s hair, considering it had always been the former who’d been looking out for the latter ever since they became classmates underneath Pickering’s rule.

But suddenly that momentary calm that engulfed the smaller girl seemed to disappear, when the situation dawned upon her.

Viv suddenly felt Regina began to shudder in her arms again, as she turned to find the girl looking peculiarly at her, only to slightly glance at the catatonic woman who was slumped in the young Scottish boy’s arms, looking at the ground.

“Did you –” her voice began to falter as she pried herself from Vivienne’s grip. “Did you really –”

The other girl’s eyes widened.

It was privy to Vivienne about Regina’s true preference, but she wondered why she would forget about it at that exact moment. Despite not knowing her for long, the very shy and reserved Regina happened to have a different preference that she only opened up towards the friendly and outgoing new exchange student who happened to like classic stories such as Tolstoy and Eyre along with her. But despite those boys who marvel at her intelligence, and Pickering’s initial advances that were ignored, Viv was sensitive enough to notice how Regina watched in her little corner whenever their beautiful, blonde classmate recited. Especially whenever she trailed her small, brown eyes whenever Claire Benton left the room.

It just suddenly dawned on Vivienne the supposed offense she committed towards her best-friend who began to back away from her, those bespectacled eyes subtly looking at her now-covered chest that had the other woman’s mouth smeared on earlier.

“It’s not –” Viv tried to reach out to the confused-looking Regina. “It’s not what you think!”

She was too late to even undo or erase what happened.

 

A small whimper escaped the girl as she ran off the third floor hallway.

 

“ _REGINA!_ ”

 

A hollow feeling of guilt soaked up Viv’s chest, making her wonder if she even enjoyed whatever treacherously lewd thing Claire had been doing to her earlier. Unable to blame herself or Claire for Regina’s anger, the girl turned to face her shocked colleagues who were currently occupying the hall, without any of the Elder researchers present. Even Chase looked helpless and discombobulated with the proceedings that he just stood there doing his best to restrain the blonde possessed girl.

Viv found herself looking at Claire, who slowly raised her head and looked straight at her with those piercing blue eyes.

There was something she couldn’t place her eyes on, but as she was about to open her mouth and call out for her best-friend again, Viv found herself stopping in the middle of her tracks to gaze at that split-second melancholy expression that appeared on the blonde’s face. It seemed to be something of longing, something that was of pain, something of desperation. In that split second of a moment, the other girl just couldn’t let it register in her head after everything that happened.

A gasp escaped one of the girl’s mouths and Viv wondered if it came from her own lips.

Apparently, it must have been Claire.

The woman gave one heave, one powerful shove that drove the tall Scottish bloke supposedly holding her backwards. Displaying power a small girl of her stature against the brawn of the man holding her, Chase couldn’t help but stare back with complete confusion as he lost his balance, losing his grip on the woman. As Chase stumbled against the wall with a groan, Chloe quickly stepped in the girl’s way, in one last attempt to stop Claire in her tracks.

 

To her surprise, the blonde pushed her aside without a second thought.

 

Viv watched in horror as her colleague who was seemingly not herself ran down the hall and disappeared into the second floor landing in a flash, outrunning the rest of the stunned crew who seemed to have been ripped apart by the hurricane that was Claire Anderson... or what used to be Claire Anderson.

 

“Guys,” Chase groaned as he tried to get up on his feet. “C’mon!”

 

Seemingly waking up from their own trances, the younger set of researchers snapped back into reality as they all hurried – following instinct and pushed by necessity and the panicked voices of each other, as they all ran down the winding stairs that connected the second floor and the third where all their rooms are located.

It was the young Scot who was first to arrive on the dark landing of the second floor, suddenly looking around in complete confusion as he was greeted by the pitch black darkness. When the three of them – Bailey, Chloe, and himself – explored that supposedly “off-limits” part of the Mansion, it was lit up with outdated designs of candelabras sitting on top of installed wooden pedestals that was lining the walls leading towards the supposedly “secret” Portrait Room.

But now it was engulfed in darkness, sunlight seemingly being eaten by this misplaced black hole that appeared out of nowhere, causing the youngsters to stop before they can even venture further into the landing.

“Christ Alm–” Chase moaned as he began to pat his cargo pants, trying to find if he had slid his phone or his flashlight in there. “Why in fri’kin’ earth is it so damn dark in ‘ere?”

A sound of scuffling in the dark could be heard, causing all of them to pause.

 

“Ch-Chase –”

 

“Hush, lass,” he shot back at Chloe, putting a hand down. “Be quiet.”

 

The scuffling sound became louder… as if it was moving towards them.

 

“ _CHASE!_ ”

 

This time it was Bailey screaming.

 

Viv found herself trapped in between Chloe and Bailey who latched onto both her arms (seemingly trying to protect her after what happened), forcing her already tense body to stiffen even more. But with Chase’s tall figure blocking their view, she couldn’t see what was going on and _if it was already time to run in case the scuffling sound wasn’t hospitable at all_.

“J-Just w-wait –” Chase was already stuttering, the tone not matching his booming voice or figure at all, He dipped his head, trying to get a better look at that seemingly small figure walking towards them, as he silently cursing himself for misplacing his phone with the power torch feature that could spare them this trouble. “H-here –”

 

 

From the darkness emerged a pair of glowing blue eyes that caused the group to jump backwards.

 

 

Viv felt her blood turn cold, realizing how familiar the sight was.

She was lucky that Bailey and Chloe were also frozen still as they didn’t see her gulp, their fingers almost digging into her shoulders as they held her into place, as she could tell that they were starting to shake with how they latched on to her. But just as she expected one of those horrible visions she has seen in her dreams or see that _raven-haired dark man_ emerge from the darkness and finally show his face to all of them; Claire suddenly walked out of the dark. Her eyes bluer than ever, her skin paler than what it was a few minutes ago when they lost her on the third floor.

 

Chloe tried to open her mouth, about to direct Chase on what to do but only a distressed sound came out.

Bailey was shaking like a rattlesnake.

Chase tried to take control of the situation by raising a hand at Claire’s unblinking figure, but it seems as if his throat was parched dry as well.

“N-Now, l-lass,” the voice that finally escaped Chase sounded more like a croak. “No sudden movements –”

 

 

That was the one time _this_ Claire actually blinked.

 

 

She pushed Chase aside as if he was some ragdoll, not even looking his way as once more he fell to the floor. For some damned reason, Bailey and Chloe suddenly released Viv out of fear as they jumped out of the way, leaving Viv to collide head-on with Claire who seemed to be lunging for her.

She didn’t know what was in her head as she _involuntarily side-stepped_ , causing the blonde to fall out of balance.

 

Only to fall into a taller man’s arms.

 

The motionless blue eyes looked up to find herself being gripped on the shoulders by a stern-looking Gerard Pickering, whose mouth was drawn into a thin line. He didn’t look pleased, and they could see the veins appearing on his neck as he stared the girl down – unable to stir an emotion from her as he spoke two words that made the rest of those who were present shudder.

 

“ _Claire. Stop_.”

 

The unblinking woman just stared at him.

That was before she mercilessly pushed him aside, and almost down the stairs.

 

As they all stared at the girl in complete shock and horror as she ran past them, they couldn’t fathom how Pickering has seemed to appear out of nowhere and on the scene as he quickly sat up despite being thrown hard down on the top of the steps.

“Someone follow her.” The urgency despite the calm in his voice quickly got Chase off the floor, causing everyone to wake up from their frozen states as they attempted to chase after the blonde who flew past all of them as if she was faster than air or wind.

Wincing as she held her hand that was wounded that wasn’t even bandaged yet, Viv found herself following the group as she saw them all pressed against the banisters looking over the ground floor, seemingly watching something with hopeless mounting urgency. Even Pickering was almost halfway down the landing of the grand staircase, and she could clearly see the panic on his etched face despite the quick and fluid way he ran down the stairs – faster than anyone who was trying to get to the lobby.

 

_BAM!_

 

By the time Viv got down to the same floor and stepped in between the space that put Chloe and Bailey apart, she found that the group was now looking at the partly open door – with Claire nowhere to be found.

“What just –”

Chase stepped back and angrily ran his fingers into his hair. “She got away.”

She looked down to find Pickering slowly skidding to a stop on the checkered marble floor, his hand gripping one of the dusty chairs left lying around as he hid the way he gritted his teeth from the group, still staring at the door that was seemingly swaying on its hinges.

Head still spinning, she turned to look around her finding herself surrounded by her colleagues who were stirred and tense from all the proceedings. They all had been recently roused from their sleepy breakfast, all of them were now standing worried, bothered, veins coursing with adrenaline, and wide-eyed with pangs of discomfort reflected on each face as they stare at the same open door Pickering is glaring it.

Part of herself felt guilty, feeling like she started this ruckus in the first place. Part of her brain played devil’s advocate, reprimanding her psyche for allowing Claire to fall in that kind of disposition, and somewhat be trapped in that kind of spell… but it wasn’t that way. No, it wasn’t.

There was something about how Claire conducted herself, that wasn’t herself at all.

It was Claire alright, _but it wasn’t at the same time_. She moved differently, she even spoke differently… and that was the part that completely scared her. However, there was that tone in her voice, in the touch of her fingers that rendered her completely still and powerless, making her wonder if it had to do something with the house.

She also couldn’t help but feel her stomach lurch with disgust remembering how Claire had somewhat taken advantage of her body.

Frustrated and utterably disturbed by all of it, Viv found herself digging her fingers in the staircase railings as well, ignoring the pain coming from her finger as she wondered what seemed to have possessed her friend to have her do that.

And that was when she remembered the other friend that mattered.

That was when she suddenly found herself asking that one question that they all should have been bothered about.

“Regina!” she gasped, as if the sound was choked in her throat. “ _Where is she?!_ What could have happened to her?! We’ve got to find her!”

 

 

 

***

 

 

Hot wet tears flew down Regina’s face the moment she ran away from the third floor, pausing on the entrance of the landing to catch her breath and to make sure that no one else have followed her.

She tried to explain to herself a million times that not everyone could understand her kind of pain, and that she has accepted that sometimes – she would have to face that pain and cry when she sees what she wants and is reminded clearly of how she could not have it.

But she didn’t understand what was more painful - that her crush forcibly became intimate with her best friend or the fact that _it was Viv_ who was in that situation.

Regina knew it, and she always reminded herself ever since the start that Vivienne was straight and she had no chance. She was happy just to be her best friend and relished the fact that they could be close without repercussions. She was also thankful that Viv accepted her for who she was and what she chose to be, though she wondered if the scope of Vivienne’s obliviousness covered the fact that she has unrequited feelings for her that she just wanted to bury and erase forever.

And yet Regina could not understand why she still cries.

Finding solace in the darkness as she could still hear the panicked voices of the people from the third floor, she hid further in the unlit landing, trying to dry her tears through her glasses.

Then she heard footsteps.

She looked up wondering if it was Viv who had come to get her and tell her that it’s okay, as she always expected her to do. And somewhat her heart was silenced of all that hurt and pounding with that thought that her best friend was out to get her.

 

But it wasn’t Viv at all.

 

Regina found herself looking up at Claire’s pale face as she stood over her hunched figure, seemingly robotic with how she moved towards her.

The girl could barely even scream when the blonde grabbed her by the collar.

 

It all happened so fast.

 

She was pulled into the darkness before she could retort, wondering about the fierceness in Claire’s hold and how quick they both moved with just the swipe of her hand.

She could barely even scream once more when the blonde suddenly yanked a door open and threw her in, those blue eyes of hers burning down on her shocked brown ones before slamming the door closed on her face.

Only when she heard the slow footsteps move away when Regina managed to drag her voice out of her throat.

 

“HELP!” she heard herself scream brokenly.

 

She found herself rising painfully from her seated position on the rickety floor as she walked towards the closed door still shaking from head to toe.

Her hands found the brass knob, turning it only to find it locked.

Looking around the dark room, finding nothing but portraits as tall as its old marble structure hung from wall to wall, Regina was suffocated with a feeling of dread that ate up her presence as she tried to ignore the politely smiling figures that grinned at her curtly in the dark.

She continued to turn at the brass knob as her shivering slowly turned into agonized whimpers of panic. Regina was once more faced with claustrophobia as she looked around the room that was starting to spin before her eyes. Whether it was the fear, the phobia, the fact that she was in the haunted house, or the fact that she was shaking out of pain and anguish earlier, everything she felt was out of horror and it felt as if the house – _no, the room_ _was playing tricks on her_.

 

“Let me out!” She began to bang at the door with her bare hands. “Let me out!”

 

 

She could hear her heartbeat matching the same hurried and panicked rhythm as she slammed her fist on the old door that just wouldn’t budge. She could already hear shrieks and panicked speech just outside her door and the more she began to pound her fists against the old mahogany, the more she felt her head ache, the voices outside getting dimmer, and a foreboding chill rising within the dark room full of old portraits that she’s stuck in.

 

 

For some reason, the room also seemed to be getting smaller.

The last time she turned around, this one – _this one lone portrait_ sitting on the center wall in the middle of the room was almost a whole yard away from her, spanning the whole length of the room. Suddenly there was this chill breeze that seemed to have drifted from behind the frame, causing the drapery to swell up… releasing its wrap on one corner in the process.

 

 

Regina began to scream in fear of what the room seemed to be projecting on her, and she can already hear the people outside to be responding to her.

“Regina, are you in there?” A male voice called out. “Regina!”

 

 

“Get me out!” She whimpered, looking behind her every single time she slammed her fists on the door. “GET ME OUT PLEASE!”

What she couldn’t explain was how the room seemed to be getting smaller with every single moment that she banged her fists on the door, while she was frantically turning and twisting the knob in hopes that it would give out.

 

 

And the farthest wall with that suspiciously hidden and cloaked portrait – the _only portrait_ that was veiled amidst all the seemingly devilishly smiling ones –

 

 

Seemed to be getting closer –

 

 And closer –

 

 

“LET ME OUT!” Regina swore she started crying again, those hot tears flowing down her cheeks as she continued to turn at the knob. “PLEASE LET ME OUT!”

Someone answered from the other side.

“We’re looking for the key! If Bailey can’t find it, we’ll ram the door down –”

 

There was this wind that inexplicably blew from inside the four-walled room, with Regina trying hard not to decipher its source. Trying not to figure out whether it’s her _imagination talking_ or _something else_ – the wall that seemed to be only a few feet away from her suddenly rumbled as popping noises filled the air, like cloth separating from wood and nail.

 

_Bang!_

 

There was this loud ear-deafening noise as she turned to look around to find dust covering the floor like putrid snow. Slowly looking up, she found herself face to face with the portrait – the one portrait that has been covered for over a hundred years or more, finally unveiled _only for her to see at that very moment_.

Despite the darkness in the room, the lace curtains drawn back and minimal sunlight entering it – Regina noticed that this face wasn’t smiling obnoxiously like how she perceived the others that were hung in a salon-style. This centerpiece, this one painting that seemed to be treasured and preserved, had a very silent aura about it, a modest smile that Regina found very familiar –

Until she found her eyebrows raising up in complete shock when she realized why it was indeed very familiar to her.

 

It was a smile that belonged to her best friend.

 

Unable to retain the shock upon seeing the striking resemblance, an ear-piercing scream escaped her mouth and rang through the air, filling the once-lonely room with that horror-filled sound.

 


	7. The Potrait of the Raven-haired Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the discovery of the painting hung in the center space of the 2nd Floor Landing Hall that the team now refers to as the "Hall of Pictures"; someone doesn't seem to be happy with the fact that the person depicted in it shares the same face with one of the volunteers of the expedition party.

“Reggie – Reggie! Regina please...”

Vivienne didn’t remember how long it was till they managed to tear the Portrait Room’s door down. Between Chase’s shaking and Bailey’s incomprehensible babbling, Viv could barely hear her own self think. But the first thing she did when she got past the door and the bodies that rammed through it moaning on the floor in pain – was to run to that shrivelled little figure by the side of the wall, shivering.

“Reg –“

The girl in question was huddled in a corner beside the broken double doors, hiding underneath her arms, shivering like a rattlesnake. She wouldn’t even respond to the apprehensive manner Vivvie has approached her, as her best friend managed to slip her hand underneath her friend’s chin, lifting her tear-stained face from her shivering arms.

To her surprise, Regina couldn’t even look at her.

Behind her, a completely different spectacle was happening. Stepping over the two groaning boys on the floor, Chloe’s eyes were affixed to something right in front of her, causing her to crouch down and tap the big Scottish rogue on the shoulder.

“Ch-Chase –“

The two boys then slowly came to themselves, as they slowly turned to look where the brunette was staring at as if she was in a trance, her jaw all agape. But the moment they saw what it was, they borrowed the same expression from Chloe as well.

Vivienne on the other hand was still fussing about her shaking friend, trying to snap Regina out of her catatonic state. But the moment her friend did and looked at her through the darkness with those blood-shot brown eyes that were filled with fear, Vivvie couldn’t help but feel the numbing horror Reggie seemed to impart on her as well.

“Wh-What’s wrong –“

That was when Bailey’s shakey voice pierced the air. “B-Bennett, you better take a look at this.”

Removing her hand from underneath Regina’s chin, Vivvie began to turn around, only to find her friend suddenly snatching her hand. Surprised by Regina’s sudden movement, the taller brunette turned to her friend with a quizzical look, only to become even more apprehensive upon seeing the new set of tears flowing down the woman’s terrified eyes.

“Don’t look at it –“ the woman’s shaking voice warned.

“I –“ Vivvie couldn’t seem to agree as curiosity began to nip at her fingers. She began to turn around as she slipped off Regina’s grasp, as the other girl began to slowly regain control of her fear and her own self, watching helplessly as her best friend got up on her feet to take a better look at what her three transfixed colleagues were hinting at, standing like still statues frozen by the image they just saw.

But the moment Vivienne raised up her eyes to look at the portrait in the middle of the room, she felt as if all the wind was knocked out of her lungs when it came into view, dimly lighted by the makeshift torches and flashlights her colleagues were shining at it.

And what made her freeze on the spot was how it looked as if she was staring at a splitting image of herself in Victorian clothing, similar to the haunting vision she saw in the White Room.

After a few minutes of deafening silence in the hall, she found her voice.

“H-How can this e-even –“

Her other three colleagues could only look at her in silence, the same kind of confusion and dread etched on their faces that could be found on Regina’s when they found her. But with their tongues tied and their throats frogged, the three could only look at each other with a realization that they were facing a greater mystery that could jeopardize the entire expedition and the possible root cause of all of that is the woman standing in the middle who shared the same face as the painting.

As much as it should be able to answer questions ringing in the din of their brains, it posed even more queries and mysteries that seemed to make the house even more threatening than it initially have been. And suddenly, they all had that fear that this secret should have not been uncovered with the fact that they originally weren’t allowed to explore the second floor landing hall.

Unable to answer the raging queries inside their minds at that moment, they heard a soft trembling voice from behind them that reminded the group that there was someone in that room who may have experienced something more than the shock that they were facing at that exact moment.

“H-Her name is _Victoire_ ,” the scholar crouched shaking by the broken doorway said weakly.

 

 

***

 

The four professors remained silent as they exited the Hall of Pictures and closed the reattached door behind them that carefully put back by a very upset Mr. Peabody, several male helps, and a quiet Chase and Bailey.

They turned to face the quiet youngsters who stood in front of them: the guilty Chase who made the decision to take down the barricade holding the 2nd Floor Landing Hall closed, flanked by an equally apologetic Chloe and Bailey.

“I hope you three knew the gravity of what you just did,” De los Reyes exclaimed crossly, looking sternly at the younger wards, especially at Chase who couldn’t look at the professor. “We didn’t really have a formal agreement with Mrs. Duboix about the access to this room, although we tried to persuade her to open it up for us... So this would have been considered as trespassing and may be taken as an account against us.”

Chase couldn’t even reply.

It was Chloe who was the first to answer to her supervisor. “Yes, Dr. Susan...”

“Are you even sure that this isn’t some kind of prank,” Dr. Carlton could be found mumbling at the back, talking to no one else but Edgerton, who clearly seemed to be disturbed by the entire situation, especially when the core researchers took a better look at the painting that looked like Vivienne using flashlights and torches. “How can we be sure that the painting is genuine?”

There was some sort of panic on Bailey’s face as he turned to look at his assigned Professor. “Sir, I swear we didn’t know about this –“

“Mr. Peabody himself explained that the 2nd Hall Landing hasn’t been touched for decades, or at least since the time when the house had been on schedule for restoration ten years ago,” Pickering spoke up in an attempt to dismiss the grave look on Carlton’s face. “I should really send an email to Mrs. Duboix inquiring about the identity of the girl in the painting –“

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Edgerton suddenly cut in with a deep booming voice, startling the three youngsters. “Once she finds out that the Hall of Pictures had been breached, she may order for the expedition to be halted –“

“Well,” Carlton said with a huff. “The caretaker already knows, so the project could be as good as done especially if he dares to report to Mrs. Duboix.” Turning to his assistant, the fifty-something Professor started giving down orders. “Take notes on the possible gifts we can give Mrs. Duboix to try and appease her about this manner,” he said gruffly. “If no one is going to do it, then I will...”

Pickering and Edgerton exchanged subtle glances as De Los Reyes raised an eyebrow.

“Yes sir,” Bailey muttered with his head bowed.

“And what are we supposed to do with the 2nd Floor Hall Landing –“

Carlton turned to glare at Gerard Pickering, who saw this more as a mystery to be solved than a mysterious phenomenon that should be left alone. Sniffing scornfully at the younger professor, the older Doctor composed himself and said sternly, “If we want this Expedition to proceed, then the Hall of Pictures must remain off-limits.”

Pickering found himself dropping his jaw.

“But Professor Carlton, we could use this information about the painting and its relevance to _our own Miss Bennett_ to our advantage –“

The older professor turned around on his heels wearing a forbidding expression directed at him. “I wouldn’t _risk_ it as we may uncover _family secrets that should not be discovered_ ,” he hissed back at the younger man. Without another word and ignoring the offended look on Pickering’s face, Carlton turned to Edgerton and exclaimed, “If you do not mind, Robert, I would like to have a word with you in my study.”

Realizing that he was referring to the White Room, Edgerton just nodded and said “Uh, sure,” before following the professor away from the landing lobby to the Hall of Pictures.

Those who remained just stayed silent, exchanging uncomfortable glances.

“Come,” Dr. De los Reyes gestured to her assistant. “We still need to review the photos we took of the Music Room...”

Chloe just nodded quietly and then followed the Professor out of the hall, briskly walking to catch up to her long strides.

Left with Chase, a still aghast Pickering turned to look at the younger man who was about his height (or even taller) and exclaimed, “Are you doing fine, Chase?”

The young man nodded and exclaimed, “Jes’ fine, Professer’.”

Pickering smiled upon hearing the quiet calm that had resurfaced in the boy’s voice. Patting him on the shoulder, both men remained quiet for a few moments before the Professor decided to speak up.

“Do you happen to know how Anderson and Bennett are doing?”

To his surprise, Chase nodded.

“I believe Bennett took Regina to ‘er room, sir,” the ginger-headed boy replied as he crossed his arms, rubbing his elbows. “Anderson is doin’ well, but I can say that she’s been a lil’ bit shaken.”

Pickering nodded as he somewhat lost his poise and began running his hands through his clipped brown hair.

“Who wouldn’t be?”

 

 

***

 

 

By the time Edgerton arrived at the White Room, the man was a bit surprised that the residing professor in the vintage study had already made himself feel at home in a span of two days or so. Although none of the artifacts in the room were touched and antiques remained on their shelves, it seemed as if Carlton managed to invade the main study table and make it into his personal space.

A macbook was already placed on the old oak surface, with a cup of tea blowing off some steam just beside it. Books were laid out on the table ranging from Tolstoy to Marx, while a pendulum device was quietly swinging away on a corner of the table. A few books on architecture and the history of New Orleans are stacked on one side of his workspace as well.

Clearing his throat, Edgerton managed to shoot a firm smile as the older historian turned around.

“Ah!” Carlton exclaimed, his hands still at parade rest behind his back. “There you are.”

Nodding to himself, Edgerton moved to sit down on one of the old ornate oak chairs that matched the table as Carlton gestured for him to do so. “I hope there is something of which I can be of help, Dr. Carlton,” Robert started, to which the other professor suddenly nodded, repeatedly saying “Oh yes, yes,” before sitting down on his own chair and seemingly scribbling something on his planner.

“I was hoping you would let me do the report about the earlier incident to Mrs. Duboix and the board –“ Edgerton started when Carlton suddenly placed his pen down and cleared his throat.

“Ah yes, about that,” the professor from Harvard exclaimed, removing his glasses and smoothing out the bridge of his nose with his stubby fingers.

The Professor from the Florida State University waited with bated breath for Carlton to speak.

“You need not worry about Gertrude Duboix as of the moment,” the older man said exasperatedly as he removed his hand from his face.

A sigh of relief came across Edgerton’s face, knowing that without Carlton tattling on to the Matron of the House, the project could be spared. As much as most of their careers and the project would be on the line in case the Matron decides that it’s done for; Carlton is not that affected as he is considered to be a neutral force in this manner since he was sent there to be some sort of a “policing force” by the Academic History Board of Executives. He exists solely in the team to ensure that 1) the volunteers are doing their jobs, and 2) no artifacts would be harmed on the mansion that was on the list of New Orleans’ “Preserved Landmarks”.  But given the power, he can control some aspects of the operation, and one of them is his capability to deliver direct advice to the Board of Executives and Gertrude Duboix herself.

“But about your team,” the professor muttered, peering through his spectacles. “We may need to make some adjustments.”

The Florida State University Professor raised an eyebrow. “Adjustments?”

A smirk appeared on Carlton’s face.

“Do you happen to know the background on Vivienne Bennett’s records?” he nonchalantly asked, sifting through his files.

Edgerton couldn’t help but frown. As much as Carlton wasn’t supposed to be biased about those who are involved in the project, it seems like at this point he must have taken a side.

“But Dr. Carlton –“

Placing his files down, seemingly still ignoring the other man’s retorts, Carlton continued speaking. “Mrs. Duboix did mention her concern about Miss Bennet when she first met her,” the professor explained. “ _And then_ reiterated that we are not to explore the 2 nd Floor Landing nor the other rooms that weren’t on the agreement... despite some _insistencies._ ”

Edgerton couldn’t hide his displeasure now, nor can Carlton decrease the sternness in his voice. “But now with the Hall of Pictures opened and us discovering something _very peculiar_ in that room, maybe it’s best that you reconsider Miss Bennett’s involvement in the project.”

The other professor pursed his lips. “We’ll see what we can do,” he said grimly. “But we need to follow through with the agreement we signed for the Florida State University volunteers –“

“The sooner you could possibly excuse Miss Bennett from this project the better,” Carlton cut in his sentence sharply. “After all, how could you explain to Mrs. Duboix once she discovered that the 2nd Floor Landing Hall has been opened and _that portrait_ had been uncovered?”

Edgerton gritted his teeth. As much as he had jurisdiction over the majority of the volunteers which happened to be Pickering’s team, he also was trying to make it a point to have a good impression on Carlton since he was part of the History Board of Executives that would eventually be an influence in the upgrade of their department. And of course he had to task this whole “getting on Carlton’s right side” thing on that doofus Pickering, and it clearly backfired. Now he also has to deal with a missing Claire Benton and the possibility of turning Carlton against his team because of that undergraduate from California.

“I’ll talk to Gerard Pickering about this,” he said quietly as he got up from his seat and made his way towards the door, acknowledging the now busy Harvard professor who was looking through his other files from another box Bailey brought in.

“Make sure that boy listens to you,” Carlton unceremoniously muttered as Edgerton turned the handle and showed his way out. He didn’t see that displeased look on the supposedly younger professor’s face, although Edgerton somewhat agrees that Pickering is somewhat a doofus. Snorting to himself as Edgerton did not reply, Carlton decided to go back to work.

The Harvardian professor continued sifting through his files and taking notes on his Macbook even though Edgerton was gone, but for some reason he was unaware that a smile has spread on his face. He isn’t really that crude nor sadistic, but the thrill of suddenly being under control and having good connections with the board and Mrs. Duboix himself is somewhat giving him life... even if a student’s involvement and possibly career was at stake. His righteous, by-the-book morals side insists that this was for the good of the project, but this power... suddenly Carlton understands why he feels so giddy.

Nearing retirement, this is the first time he had been on field again after some issues in the History Department and the Harvard Education Board as well. Carlton dismisses this as some sort of him falling out of favour with the more “liberal” and “less traditional” board members, whom he may have berated, degraded, and ignored during his reign as the History Department Administrator. But promised with good benefits come his retirement and some sort of “reign” with what to do or say with the “Black Swan Mansion expedition”; he began to settle for the “retirement offer” that his colleagues have been suggesting for the past few years.

And to think of putting that “airheaded” and “progressive-thinking” Pickering (who irked him so much) on the spot for hiring some sort of a troublemaker (without any given proof, but he takes Gertrude Duboix’s anxiety of Vivienne Bennett’s existence in the project as a liability to the entire operation) just makes him smile.

 _And it’s such a shame_ , Carlton heard himself think. _Bennett seems to be intelligent and capable... Well, it’s her damn luck._

A soft sound of fabric falling to the floor with a thud could be heard behind him.

The man turned around to find a dusty old white fabric lying in a pile on the floor... in front of a beautiful grandiose mirror that stood as tall as a person, framed with beautiful golden designs that were probably Rococo. However, Carlton noticed as he approached it, that this significant mirror was wearing an unusual crack.

Frowning as he took a better look, the professor reached out a hand and began to run his fingers along the cracks on the surface of the mirror, taking note of the fact that it was either his own assistant Bailey or Bennett herself who probably saw this mirror before it ended up in this inebriated state.

 _Now of course if it was Bennett_ , Carlton couldn’t help but cluck his tongue. _This would definitely count against her._

A knowing smile began to spread on the professor’s face as he gazed at the cracks as if it was some final word to a heinous plot he was unknowingly making to make sure that what he considered as a _bad luck charm_ to the project would stay out of their way. But as his mind was busy buzzing, something peculiar caught his eye.

For some reason, there was a white figure that was standing behind his broken reflection. Adjusting his spectacles, he tries to get a better look as he peered into the broken mirror, only to realize it has white fur and small beady black eyes.

 

For some reason, behind him stood a white doe.

 

Blinking, Carlton turned around wondering how the animal wandered into the room...  only to find nothing behind him.

 

The professor began to sweat cold when he turned around to face his reflection, only to realize that the doe has come closer to him now...

And for some reason, there was something eerily wrong about his reflection.

 

In fact, _there was something very wrong with his eyes_.

 

They were so eerily blue as it peered through the cracks in the mirror.

What horrified him was the fact that his eyes weren’t blue...

They were hazel.

Carlton wasn’t even sure about the expression his reflection was wearing, but at a glance it seemed that it made his wicked grin seemed even more sinister.

He was about to take a second glance, but for a moment he felt the doe behind him dart out of focus, distracting him. In a split second, he completely lost the chance to turn around and see where the apparition would have gone as the mirror suddenly starts shaking, causing the professor to move back.

“What the –“

Carlton never finished his musings as the glass exploded right into his face.


	8. The Unmapped Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With an actual _bloody_ crisis in their hands, Vivienne and Regina realize that there is _something more_ to the painting that no one else has noticed. What could it be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the proofing, Wolfie. Mwah <3

Without looking back, the first thing Vivienne accomplished was to check her friend for injuries (with the help of a quiet and unresponsive Chloe) and hand her a glass of water. Sputtering and gasping, Regina barely even finished. Her eyes fluttered and as she began to calm down in the presence of people she trusted as she lay down on her bed in their room, Regina quickly drifted to an early sleep.

Vivvie decided to stand guard over her friend as she slept through that afternoon, Chloe excusing herself to return to Dr. De los Reyes. Her colleague thanked her for her help, but even as the taller brunette smiled back, Chloe wouldn’t look at Vivienne at all. And this bothered her profusely.

Then she realized why.

As she tinkered on her phone, listening to Regina’s shallow breathing, Vivvie’s thoughts returned to _the painting in the Hall._ She had to admit that she wasn’t able to take a good gander at it, since she felt her brain shut down the moment she wondered why her face was plastered on an old yellowing canvas – _when she realized that it wasn’t her_. What bothered her was that this painting she saw was so similar to the same vision that she had in the White Room.

Given that it was any random painting and she was in her right mind, not worrying about an almost-possessed best friend who was writhing on the ground, Vivvie would have taken a picture of that peculiar painting she was curious about.

But if it looked _exactly_ like you and it’s terrifying your colleagues? Maybe not.

Although she was curious about it and wanted to know if it was _really similar to hers_ , the thought of it horrified Vivvie for some reason. Something seemed to be pushing her to go back into that room infested with supernatural possibilities despite the consequences. It was the only way to answer those raging questions in her brain.

_Who was that girl?_

_How did Regina find out her name?_

_Who was Victoire?_

_Do I really look like her?_

_Why do I even look like her?_

 

Flicking her phone closed and throwing it on the bed, Vivvie found herself covering her face, realizing what shit Regina probably had to go through inside that Hall when they couldn’t get her out. Her friend was speaking in tongues and shaking like a rattlesnake when they found her on the floor; it was a distressing image that was far from the confident and laid back Regina that Vivvie was used to. But then again she remembered that Regina has the power to see _things._

Vivvie bit her lip.

_What else could have Regina seen or heard inside that room that we did not?_

She remembered Regina’s breathy gasps in the middle of her terrified hiccups. “ _Something is at work in this house that we cannot see.  Please don’t go into the Hall of Pictures alone._ ”

Those were her words when they were trying to make their way back to the third floor West Wing rooms in an attempt to escape the second landing fracas and to steer clear of the Senior Professors as they took a better look at the painting that started all that chaos amongst them assistants after Claire has bolted from the mansion.

To think of it, no one dared to find out where Claire disappeared to, considering Pickering told them to hold back from searching since it was getting dark. However, Chloe did tell her how Pickering snuck off after that initial meeting with the rest of the professors in front of the newly boarded Hall of Pictures, presumably to look for the blonde. Vivvie couldn’t help but worry for her Professor since Claire seemed to be possessed by a malevolent spirit. At least Pickering didn’t have Regina’s gifts, but that seemed to worry her even more.

At least Pickering wasn’t being cryptic like her best friend.

Viv was in the middle of her thoughts when their bedroom door suddenly burst open.

Almost jumping off the bed and ready to shield Regina in case something peculiarly malevolent ranging from one of those unseen presences of the house to a deranged Claire who has returned to haunt them, Vivvie found herself staring at a pale-faced Chase who looked as if he’s seen everything.

“Chase,” the brunette spoke up after a few moments of the Scot trying to catch his breath. “What’s wrong?”

There was a look of genuine fear in the boy’s eyes.

“D-Dr. Carlton –” His voice shook almost in the same manner Regina’s own was shaking earlier. “Something has happened.”

Vivvie didn’t even let him finish as she darted in the hallway along with the boy. Following the way Chase crookedly run towards the end of the third floor West Wing, they found themselves standing to the familiar double-doored entrance of the White Room that were carelessly flung open.

Everybody stirred in the room when they entered, Chase almost losing his footing after running that hard. Some of them even stared blankly at Viv who was surveying the state of the mess inside the hall, although all of the artifacts she had managed to record remained intact, save for that mysterious crystal-like debris on the floor. But a sort of dead silence hung about the room, like a terrible presence like a dagger pressed to one’s throat.

And that was when a soft snivelly whimper caught Viv’s attention, causing her to turn towards the side of the door, only to find a shivering Bailey now assuming Regina’s initial position in the Hall of Pictures.

The poor boy’s eyes were bloodshot, albeit they were peeking through his long fingers, completely horrified with what he had seen. And he could barely speak to the professors who tried to talk some sense into him, his voice littered with gasps and cries, as if he had seen a ghost, or witnessed a bloody murder.

And what a bloody murder it was indeed.

Vivienne felt her entire body grow numb as she retracted her eyes from the despondent Bailey, transferring over the bloody hulk of meat that was almost unrecognizable, slammed upon the table. Squinting her eyes, the girl realized that the figure dripping with blood was stabbed with what appeared to be glittering knives that reflected light to various parts of the room, some of them even throwing light in her way, blinding her.

And that’s all that was left of Dr. Carlton.

A hand quickly flew to Viv’s mouth the moment she realized where the shards came from. A stark reminder that standing behind the now bloody oak table that she personally polished only a day before, was this blackened surface of the mirror, no reflective surface remaining on it. She turned to look around at the aghast faces around her who did not know how to react or speak about the incident either, keeping silent as they looked at Dr. Carlton’s disfigured body, his eyes, his chest, and his stomach impaled with the mirror shards.

Only Dr. Susan De los Reyes was brave enough to pick up the dirty linen used to cover the tall length-mirror on the floor, draping it modestly on the professor’s dead body, shielding the horrifying sight from the rest of the room that didn’t know how to look or deal with it.

“Everybody please remain calm,” she then assumed command, her voice firm as she looked around, clenching her hands that were drenched with Carlton’s blood. “Regroup in the mess hall for dinner, we shall do a headcount. Chloe and I will contact the police and inform them about what happened here tonight.”

She then turned to Chloe and said, “Please inform Dr. Edgerton immediately about this.”

Looking at the grim faces around the room and the devastated Bailey sitting on the ground like a lost child, she calmly spoke, “The police will arrive and everyone will indeed be questioned. But please do not be afraid as no one will be charged as guilty without proof.”

She purses her lips and looks at the team of youngsters that were starting to look very worried, making sure to glare at a shocked-looking Viv before finishing her speech.

“If you have done nothing wrong then no harm will be done.”

 

***

 

Nobody could look at Vivienne over dinner.

With Carlton and Edgerton still upstairs in the third floor East Wing with the police and the paramedics taking care of Carlton’s body, only a few attendees were present in the Mess Hall. But between a respectful Pickering who dropped her a word or two, asking if she’s doing fine and the rest of the team, it was one very silent dinner for Vivvie.

She couldn’t blame those shifty eyes and the quiet, subtle chewing that could be heard around the table. With a professor dead and a colleague declared missing, one couldn’t help but feel very nervous. Viv did tell herself that it wasn’t about her.

Well, it wasn’t mostly about her.

Because she and Bailey were the last occupants of the White Room before Dr. Carlton moved in, the group couldn’t help but think that poor Vivienne had to do something with the horrible things happening to the expedition group, considering the creepy fact that _her picture_ was hanging as the centerpiece in the Hall of Pictures. If they were trying not to show their apprehension about the Florida exchange student, they weren’t _trying hard enough._

Of course, they weren’t privy to the fact that Carlton was already openly accusing Vivienne about this supernatural matter, believing that she’d be a threat to the expedition. What more if the group knew this information?

Vivvie never felt so alone on that table that night or so ignored. Pickering would crack a joke now and then and shoot her a smile, but the other juniors would remain quiet. Chloe did shoot her a feeble grin when she passed the potatoes, but Bailey was still staring into space and Chase himself look possessed – and it was the last thing the kids wanted to happen to themselves.

She couldn’t help but think about the empty seat beside her.

She tried to rouse Regina, but the girl was too exhausted to rise from her bed. She did inform Dr. De los Reyes of Regina’s whereabouts and even took the professor to their room, explaining about the girl’s predicament during the Hall of Pictures incident. However, despite everything she said, Dr. De los Reyes looked sternly at the young woman before nodding, only answering, “I know. I was there,” in a very clipped manner, referring to the incident where the four professors took a better look at _that_ painting before indicating the second floor hall landing to be barred.

And that was when Vivienne’s thoughts wandered back to the _painting_.

She left her meal (and it was a shame, since Miss Caroline and the other helps have prepared a scrumptious dinner of roast beef, mashed potatoes, and peas to lift their spirits) untouched, as she began to fiddle with her phone underneath the table, trying to distract herself from that unusual tension happening over dinner.

Her head currently drowning in thoughts, in fears, and in apprehensions; Vivvie dared to look up the search terms “ _Victoire_ ” and “ _Black Swan Manor_ ”, in hopes of having to take a better gander at that unsettling painting hanging in the second floor hall landing without being there herself and alone since she was sure no one on that table would dare accompany her back to that Hall of Pictures.

Much to her relief, no pictures or articles came up that resembled the girl in the hall or something similar to her face.

However, there was one familiar thing that popped up in the results that made her look closely at the screen with a disbelieving look on her face: a figure of a black swan. She was sure she had seen it everywhere, but she was sure that she _owned something that also had that emblem._

Subtly pushing her plate away, she properly fixed her utensils to indicate that she was done, before quietly pocketing her phone and walked towards the kitchen. Pickering looked up from his meal to glance in the girl’s direction, but Vivienne had already left.

 

***

 

The smell of mushroom soup wafted inside the girls’ room by the time Vivienne managed to squeeze herself through the door with her hands full. She was able to sneak in a piece of bread and a glass of water for her sleeping friend as she set over her tray of food on Regina’s now-empty bedside table, having put aside her books, readings, and materials on a small bench just beside the wide windows.

Sitting on the edge of her sleeping friend’s bed, Vivvie couldn’t help but wonder what Regina was dreaming about as she tossed and turned in her sleep. She was initially afraid to leave her alone, sleeping in their room, in case something supernatural happened again – or if Claire would suddenly come out of nowhere. (As if Claire was an actual threat, and the thought of that made her sick.) But knowing that the cops and paramedics were in the same floor and she could hear De los Reyes and Edgerton’s hushed voices down the corridor; she knew Reggie was safe.

Her thoughts momentarily lingered on Carlton’s murder, making her wonder if anyone in the house was a killer; whether they were posing as a professor or a student assistant, who would have a grudge against Carlton?

_Certainly not Pickering_ , she felt herself snort as she thought about it, a shadow of a smile appearing on her lips. _He’s quite the dork, but he wouldn’t go as far as murder to show his displeasure for Carlton._

The faces of her innocent-looking colleagues popped in her head: the buff yet gentle Chase, the mousey Bailey, and the innocent-faced Chloe. _They wouldn’t do that, won’t they?_ Vivienne couldn’t help but think. _Unless they were acting upon the orders of…_

De los Reyes looked very detached and uninvolved with the education board scuffles Edgerton, Pickering, and Carlton were concerned about. _It couldn’t be her._

Edgerton seemed fierce and aggressive enough to create a ruckus, but he wouldn’t murder Carlton. At least she doesn’t know what his motives would be. _But then again Edgerton wouldn’t dare_ , Viv thought as she stood up from Regina’s bed and started pacing. _His career is on the line._

_Unless he was possessed._

The girl’s eyes widened.

They were in a mansion that was believed and reported to be haunted. How could she not consider the supernatural element to be part of this gruesome murder? Claire had clearly been possessed, she could have been the one who murdered Carlton, but then again they hadn’t located Claire ever since she disappeared and she overheard the cops talking that no one else have been in that room during the time of the murder.

_Could it really be something not of this world that killed Carlton?_

That was when a glint of gold caught her eye.

Stepping between the small narrow space between her bed and Regina’s, Viv made her way towards her own beside table where her own personal effects were scattered, left lying about. And amidst them all was the black swan pendant, its gold rimming, its parts shining, trying to call to her attention.

Something burned within Vivienne’s vision as she picked it up and looked at it closely, turning it around her hands. There was something about it, something so familiar, that she swore that she had seen it before.

“Tsk,” Viv clucked her tongue, and that was when she knew what she had to do.

 

 

***

 

 

Regina woke up to the smell of mushrooms emanating all over the place, as she turned to find a nice bowl of soup almost cold beside her. But what truly woke her up was that muffled sound of a door closing, and as she turned to look at the door – it wasn’t properly closed as she expected it.

Then for some reason, she found herself looking at her friend’s bedside table to find the familiar-looking swan pendant missing.

“Viv!” That was the first thing that came to her mind as she felt all her energy returning, dragging her out of bed and into the third floor hallway.

Following her instincts, her feet led her back to the horrifying second floor landing and she instinctively backed away as she was reminded of the horrors that she found in it. Even the scholarly and logical Regina couldn’t imagine how she could be so bothered by such images that she had seen inside that hall, given the fact that she promised to have logic rule her head ever since she started seeing images of her dead grandmother creep up beside her bed.

But there was something about this place, something that haunted her to the core and puts her own logic aside. There was something inside that room, something aside from the picture that had her good friend’s face etched on it, that was telling her to be cautious, to run away, to take Vivvie with her, take anyone who wanted to run away and forget that all of this ever happened. But she couldn’t do it, she couldn’t do anything with haste if her best friend wasn’t really willing to do the same thing and was currently standing in front of that said terrifying room like a statue waiting for it to tell her its horrifying secrets.

“Vivienne!” Regina called out with a croaky voice, towards that still, unmoving figure holding up the bright light coming from the back of her phone.

Her friend mechanically turned around, her eyes unusually blank despite of the supposed mark of determination that was etched on her face.

“Regina, what are you –”

Clutching her chest and taking note of how her legs still wobbled, Reggie had to hold on to the edges of the banister so she can properly address her colleague whose hands were slowly moving towards that one lone plank that was hammered to keep the doors to the second floor landing from being opened.

“No,” the smaller girl spoke, still dressed in the clothes where Viv found her in earlier, the rubble from the earlier fracas now brushed away from her long black hair, but still wearing that identical emotion of dread on her face. “What are _you_ doing here?”

The other girl turned back to face the doors, her delicate fingers now running against the board plank hammered against the entrance to the Hall of Pictures. “I know we’ve been banned from this landing, Reggie,” Vivvie spoke as though she was in a trance, and after that experience with Claire, Regina wasn’t liking this either. “I heard it was Mr. Peabody who hammered this door down, with the help of Bailey and Chase.”

Vivienne bit her lip as she ran her hand against the plank blocking the door, making it more of a gesture of desperation than defeat. “But I saw something,” she turned around to look at her friend, her eyes still blank and somewhat devoid of emotion. “I saw something and I need to go back and see it for myself.”

Regina shook her head. “It’s not safe, Viv. It doesn’t make sense why, I know it’s _peculiarly familiar to a point of creepy_ but…”

 

All of a sudden, there was that loud _thunk_ that was heard on the floor.

 

Tearing her eyes from her friend and looking at her feet, Vivvie found out that the plank fell off the door on its own, as though it wasn’t properly attached to the door. The girl’s jaw dropped, because she swore she felt about five or six nails perfectly affixing the plank to the solid surface of the door to a point she was sure that it wouldn’t budge.

As she stepped closer on wobbly legs, a gasp escaped Regina’s mouth when she saw the piece of wood lying undisturbed on the floor, as if they were torn away from the door without any effort at all.

As the friends exchanged troubling looks, both slowly realized how it was so easy, _too easy_ , for them to enter the Hall of Pictures when it was made clear that it shouldn’t be accessed.

 

It was as though _something_ or _someone_ wanted them to enter the hall landing.

 

Without saying another word or looking at her friend, Vivvie placed a hand on the double doors and turned the handle.

“Vivienne no!”

The creaky swing of the door filled the air with its sound, a cold draft blowing through Vivvie as she crossed the threshold, shifting from the low-light beaming from her phone to the actual flashlight she was carrying in her other hand.

Regina gritted her teeth and made a sign of the cross, half-cursing her friend for dragging herself into this mess and half-horrified more than ever considering that whatever she experienced inside that room (that her own logic could explain) is taking over her brain and making her function less, which she hated so much. Taking a deep breath, she drew her jacket around her shoulders and hesitantly followed Vivienne inside as well.

Shining her way as she looked at the other pictures in the parlour-style hall; Vivvie made small hesitant steps towards the picture at the end of the hall, the one that sent Regina screaming, silenced the rest of her colleagues, and had the senior professors declaring the room off limits. But at that moment they were law breakers, and with the current chaos going on in the mansion, Vivienne was sure that they wouldn’t even be noticed that they were there given the fact that they’d properly seal the entrance once they’re done.

“Remind me to get a hammer when we get out of here.”

She felt her voice slowly fade into nothing as her flashlight shined upon that pristinely calm face that eerily resembled hers.

The initial mischief and adrenaline rush of breaking into the landing, the impulsive need to discover things behind that door, and the determination to unearth secrets behind that mysterious painting slowly drained away when she found herself face to face with the portrait, unable to believe how it looked uncannily like her.

She was drowning in shock and worry the first time she saw it.  She didn’t have time to discern the gravity of the fact that she shared a face with someone who _may have lived in this house or had a connection to this abandoned mansion_. Vivienne was wrought with a thousand questions as she took slow, anchored steps towards “ _Victoire’s_ ” portrait, seemingly sizing up that image with what she’s worth as if her identity depended on it.

It was similar to the image that she saw in the White Room in every way – the same complexion, the same gait, and almost the same style of clothing – except for that small mole under her eye that Vivvie did not share.

But there was something else in _Victoire’s_ face that you would not find on modern-day Vivvie’s: those dark curls that frame her face that seemed to have streaks of brown as depicted by the painter, the lady-like gait that was a result of the most grueling grooming and training during that era, the deep-browns in her eyes that were lovingly captured by the artist, and that tranquil smile that seemed to indicate that she kept a secret like the Mona Lisa’s.

But if there was one thing that Vivienne truly shared with the portrait, is that wide-eyed enthusiasm that seemed to emanate from her face, as well as the enthusiasm and joy for life that could be read from those soft plump lips that grinned at whoever smiled back at her.

However, at that moment, the woman who could have acted as the painting’s mirror was wearing an expression akin to a mix of awkwardness and utter dread.

Her thoughts that crisscrossed between awe and confusion, mixed with a bit of disbelief and shock with what she was seeing, along with those thousand questions and those nagging ones that ask her if she really has something to do with this woman… were suddenly interrupted by the soft, whispery voice of her friend who grudgingly followed behind her.

“She looks uncannily like you, Vivvie.” Regina whispered, making the woman in question jump.

Removing the strong torch light from _Victoire’s face_ , she turned to wince in the darkness that was now illuminated by the torch from Vivvie’s phone and her flashlight.

“I get that,” the taller brunette said through gritted teeth as she switched off the torch app from her phone, returning her gaze upon the Victorian Woman’s painted face by shining the flashlight’s brighter beam on it. “But I’m not comfortable with it.”

Taking a deep breath, the woman approached the painting with a brave face, even though it loomed over her and spanned the entire wall. Regina stood behind her pulling the coat Vivvie had thrown around her before she fell asleep, face anxious.

Moving closer to take a better look, the taller brunette inspected the canvas that was now yellowing over time yet still preserved behind a slightly cracked and slowly thinning glass wall that keeps it safe from the elements. The rest of her was encased by a slow rotting frame antique wood veneers that were decorated with various ornaments etched into it.

As she began to touch the frame, she felt Regina shift behind her nervously once more, silently disapproving of what she was doing.

“Who was she?” Vivienne heard herself ask as she was entranced by the arches and designs of the frame, while she compared the pattern etched on the painted figure’s dress to the apparition she saw in the now late Dr. Carlton’s mirror in the White Room.  “There isn’t a name on this painting.”

There was a silence in the room when Regina finally croaked out her answer.

“Her name is Victoire.”

Stopping in the middle of her musings and exploration of the painting, a newfound determination clouding her fear and apprehension, Vivvie turned around and raised an eyebrow at her friend, her face almost shadowed by the darkness as Regina was initially blinded by the light from her flashlight.

“How did you even –”

Regina shrugged and panic seemed to take over her voice, her old self slowly coming back after her catatonic state from earlier. “I don’t know! I didn’t even find it anywhere or know it before I was locked in this room. But by the time you rescued me and the paintings seemed to come to life and all I could hear was her name being screamed in my head. So I guess...”

Her eyes slowly flicked towards her friend who was nodding quietly, before turning around to look at the framed image once more.

“…she’s Victoire.” Vivvie whispered blankly, unblinking as she started at the eerie painting.

The two of them stared at the painted woman for a while, when Regina finally retracted her gaze from the image to look at her own friend, slowly coming to terms that _maybe Vivienne has something to do with this house_.

She wasn’t ready to find out about it.

“We really need to do something about the voices in your head, Regina,” her friend replied in quite a cocky manner to break that uncomfortable ice that were growing down their spines as she slowly brought her gaze back down to the rest of the frame – at least at the same eye-level as hers. All of a sudden, Viv found herself squinting, spotting something peculiar.

“What is that?”

Pointing the beam of her flashlight at the bottom of the painting, was an oval detail carved into the frame. As Viv approached it, the brighter the beam became as the embossed figure was slowly revealed to the two junior historians who happened to break the rules and enter the forbidden room. It was lined with fading gold laurel leaves, with the oval center seemingly made of something white and smooth – something that was probably marble. And in the middle of it, also outlined with gold, was a solid emboss of a black swan.

Regina felt her jaw drop upon taking a better look at it. With all the fear and the apparition of the painting still covered coming towards her the first time she got locked in the room, she wasn’t able to notice this exact detail. “Vivvie it looks just like –”

Her friend was suddenly shuffling inside her pockets, trying to look for something. The first thing she pulled out was her phone, cursing about how it was too dark with just one source of light. Turning on her torch app, she handed the iPhone to a flabbergasted Regina who took about three seconds to realize that she had to hold the phone acting like another flashlight to support her friend.

Slipping her hand inside her pocket, Vivienne pulled something out and slowly brought it to the light and it shone brightly in complete comparison to the emblem pressed against the wood of the frame of _Victoire’s_ painting: the swan pendant that was in Viv’s possession all that time.

“It’s identical,” the girl with the almond-shaped eyes (that she shared with the painting) exclaimed, squinting as she turned the pendant around her hands with her gaze shifting from the smaller object she was holding to the ornament affixed in the middle of the painting’s frame.

She slowly approached the painting again with Regina following her footsteps, as Vivvie reached out to touch the swan emblem that shares the same details with her pendant. “I know this is called the Black Swan Mansion, but this is either too redundant or too coincidental.”

Regina turned to look at the pendant that Vivvie was holding, running a finger on its gold-trimmed edges.

“It could be _more_ than a pendant,” a realization echoed out of the smaller woman’s mouth. “Have you even tried opening it to see if it’s a locket?”

Viv turned to look at her friend as she brushed a hand on the swan effigy pressed against the round surface on the painting that she has confirmed to be marble. “I never tried and it doesn’t seem to open that way,” she claimed as she found herself shifting her weight and leaning accidentally on the painting.

All of a sudden, Viv seemed to have lost her footing as the round curve where the black swan was affixed on the frame seemed to have disappeared.

_Thuck!_

 

Turning towards it with wide eyes, she realized that the embossed replica of the pendant that served as an ornament of the frame _seemed to have sunk inside the thick wood veneers_ when she accidentally _pressed it_. Even Regina had to redirect the light she was shining on the pendant towards the painting frame where now a deep hole was found where the embossed round swan figure was originally found.

For a moment, an identical thought of panic went through the two girls: the “black swan” ornament has either tumbled out of sight or sank within the deep wooden structure of the thick frame, and this would be the only proof that would have them extricated from the project as they have tampered with a highly valuable artifact that _shouldn’t have been touched_ at all. Not to mention the fact that they were in a place that was restricted.

Regina was about to squeak a sound of distress as Viv stuck her hand inside the hole without thinking, only for her to speak out and withdraw her hand as a whole, making the whole thing seem as if it was a horror-version of Gregory Peck inserting his hand in the _Bocca della Verita_ in Roman Holiday.

“The swan figure is still inside,” Viv confirmed with a weird expression on her face. “It seemed to have sunk –“

That was when a loud creaking noise filled the room and the sound of a large piece of wood moving forced the two girls to jump and back away from the painting _as they slowly watch it swing open with a loud, ethereal pop_.

Frozen like statues, Regina and Vivienne slowly heard themselves breath out loud as they stared into this dark abyss that was found beside the now-standing-sideways painting, with its frame acting like hinges and edges to a door. A cold draft seemed to have come from the darkness within the room and both girls once again were faced with identical thoughts that seemed to be communicated between the the two of them without even speaking.

“No –”Regina felt herself say hoarsely.

“—way.” Vivienne finished her sentence, her eyes as wide as saucers as she dared to point the brighter, stronger beam of her flashlight into the abyss, revealing stairs descending into a darkness that seemed to be as big as the hall they were standing in.

Regina also dared to shine the torch app of the iPhone inside the room, detecting study lounge chairs probably older than their grandfathers as well as shelves and shelves of books with golden prints that glinted in the darkness. Other than that aside from the cold draft that greeted them as the door opened, there seemed be something _else_ in this room they weren’t willing to discover.

For a moment, both women lowered their light sources and remained silent.

A cry initially seemed to escape Vivienne’s lips, but then it slowly formed into coherent words that made Regina’s hair almost stand on its ends.

“I…” she started in a high-pitched voice. “I’ve got to go inside.”

Reggie turned mechanically to face her friend, dread and fury in her eyes. “Are you _NUTS?!!_ ” The way she raised her voice echoed in the room.

For the first time, Viv found herself staring down at her friend, wondering what the house probably did to her meek and quiet friend Regina. But with one professor dead and a colleague she seemed to have treasured silently from a distance also missing, the explorer within Regina seemed to have faded and was replaced by someone whose logic is dictated by fear and ghosts.

“This!” She gestured at her with Viv’s own phone, throwing the beam of the torch app around. “This is exactly WHAT GETS PEOPLE KILLED IN HORROR MOVIES, VIVIENNE!”

The other girl’s lip quivered. “Were not in a horror movie, Reg –”

“WE ARE IN A HAUNTED MANSION,” Regina screamed, no longer hiding the fact of the predicament that they were in. “THIS STORY IS GOING TO END UP IN A GRUESOME MANNER EITHER WAY AND I WILL NOT DIE.”

Regina couldn’t believe it but Viv managed to snort ironically in the darkness, a small smirk playing on her lips. “You’re not gonna die, Reggie,” she said in a comical manner, despite the fact that her voice started to shake. “No one’s gonna die. in fact, if you’re not comfortable with going inside this –“ She gestured blankly at the ominous inner room behind the painting. “—thing, then I’m going to explore it myself.”

Before she could move though, she felt claws holding onto her arm.

Vivienne was close to screaming, stopping when she realized it was Regina that clamped her free hand onto her arm. “I’m not gonna die, Viv,” Regina grunted, tears forming in her eyes without her noticing it in the dark. Pulling at her friend’s arm she reiterated, “ _We’re not going to die and we’re not going to do anything stupid._ ”

Her friend began to pull at her captured arm, identifying this whole episode of Regina being scared shitless, the same effect the room had on her earlier.

“No one’s going to die, Regina,” Vivvie said with conviction, now raising her voice as well as she tried to wrench her hand free. She did manage to liberate her arm for a moment before Regina clamped on it with both hands once more, with Viv’s own cell phone case digging into her sleeve. “I don’t know why, but whatever we need to know – whatever is bothering us, _something is telling me that we can find the answers to this room_.”

Regina shook her head as Viv continued to pull at her own hand, trying to make her way through the darkness and the passageway behind the painting.

“Now if you please let me go,” Vivienne barked, this display of aggression alien to Regina considering that her friend has always been cool, calm, and collected. “If you don’t want to die or you’re too scared of _ghosts we can find in here_ , you can stay behind! I’m the only one at stake.”

To her surprise her best friend suddenly gave her arm a quick violent tug, snapping Vivienne out of her monologue.

“I’m pretty sure that if there is a ghost involved in all of this, they must be pretty fond of you to even _keep a painting with your face in here_ ,” Regina hissed, almost screaming, as she suddenly found her voice after staying silent for so long. “But I am not willing to take that goddamn risk of losing you.”

Vivienne suddenly stopped in her tracks upon the mention of possible ghosts being fond of her, making her wonder if she’s the only one who was having weird notions of this place seemingly _tending_ to her, _making her want to stay_. But as those words slipped from Regina’s lips, Vivienne realized that maybe she’s not imagining things and maybe she was in deeper trouble, seemingly being tied to a house with _a painting_ being a single solid proof of it.

“You’re my only friend now, Vivvie,” Regina said through teary eyes. “Please don’t leave me.”

Despite the darkness, the now unfocused light from the torch app on her phone, and the way Regina trembled as she held onto Vivienne’s arm. The other girl found herself lowering the torch and nodding at her friend, taking one silent look at the dark abyss behind the painting before turning away.

Using both of their strengths, both girls managed to push _Victoire’s_ painting back into place, closing the door to the _hidden room_ behind it, before slowly hearing the round black swan emblem snap back into place in the middle of the frame – as if it was never touched at all.

“Let’s get you a proper dinner,” Viv spoke quietly as she led her friend from the Hall of Pictures, quietly laying the torn-off plank that barred it as they closed the double doors, making a mental note of making an alibi in case someone found it removed from its hinges the next morning.

They did not notice a pair of eyes from the darkness watching them as they slowly made their way back to the third floor.

 

 

***

 

 

Once everyone was asleep, the cops and paramedics gone, the documents prepared, and Dr. Carlton’s body moved from the house, a soft shuffling of feet could be heard on the second floor landing.

The light of a not-so powerful torch coming from a mobile device could be seen hovering near the entrance to the Hall of Pictures. A hand could be seen placing the torn-off board aside as one door to the great hall was opened, before being quietly closed behind the said person with a soft thud, not enough to wake anyone.

The same quiet footsteps continued in the shadows, the beam of light acting as their only guide. The light then focused on that calm and serene face of _Victoire_ before slowly moving down the painting to land on the marble surface of the round ornament where the black shiny emboss of the black swan was pressed upon.

A hand adorned with a lone bracelet reached out in the darkness to press against the black swan emboss, causing the painting to swing forward and reveal the hidden library behind it, releasing the same cold draft of air that greeted Vivienne Bennett and Regina Anderson when they first opened it.

The person smirked with satisfaction, mimicking the same movements they had observed from what the two wayward girls were doing earlier.

_Anderson and Bennett are playing with fire and they think that nobody is else watching,_ they thought as they shined their light in the darkness of the undiscovered library, unmapped in the original house draft that was given to the expedition team. _I will find whatever secret they are hiding and maybe that will stop the occurrences in this mansion once and for all._

The person adjusted their glasses for one moment and the light was shown on their face – revealing Dr. Susan De los Reyes’ wearing a pensive and dubious expression as she slowly entered the hidden room and closed Victoire’s portrait behind her.

 

 

 

 


	9. Signe du Cygne Noir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desperate to find answers, Vivvie decides to take research matters on her own as she attempts to leave the Mansion.

“ _Vivvie, I’m not risking your life or mine with whatever could be in that library –_ “

“ _But there could be answers, Reggie! Answers to that painting! Answers to why it was calling out to you! Answers to whatever you experienced inside that room –“_

“ _But –“_

“ _Maybe we’ll find a way to discover who that Victoire really is –“_

“ _Are you even sure you want to find out who she is?”_

“ _Everyone is already bothered about how she shares a face with me! Who knows if she could be an ancestor, a doppelganger, or maybe even a reincarnation! Wouldn’t you want to find out who she really is and prove everyone in this goddamn expedition wrong?”_

“ _Are you ready to know the truth?”_

“ _What do you mean –“_

“ _Can you handle the truth once you know it, Vivienne?”_

“ _What –_ “

 

Snippets of the conversation she had with Regina as they prepared for sleep soared through Vivienne’s brain as she tossed and turned in her bed that night. They spoke to each other in hushed tones, hissing and snapping about each other, with one wanting to proceed with something while the other completely disagreeing with this plan. They spoke like true sisters and then fought as if they were not good friends at all. One tried to be reasonable, one tried to expand her imagination. Everything had to come to a halt when Regina started getting dizzy and started shaking like the way Vivvie found her in the Hall when they first broke through the double doors.

Now as she lay undisturbed underneath her covers, Vivvie couldn’t help but dream of what transpired between them and what has happened throughout the previous day… but with severe consequences and horrific images.

As images of bloodied sheets and cracked glass soared through her brain, accompanied by the dizzying swirl of candlelight that illuminated the disappointed and horrified looks of her colleagues as they stood in a dark room…

There was also this vision of her looking in a broken mirror with her reflection smiling serenely back at her…

Then there was an image of Claire in a torn-up hall; smiling eerily amidst the upturned and messed up furniture around her…

It was also accompanied with a separate image of a faceless Edgerton and Pickering trying to find their way out of a white library with splotches of blood all over books, with Dr. Susan the only one with a face sitting on a desk with torn library pages on her hands with blood splattered all over it…

And there was this horrible image of a weak and pale Regina, convulsing on a checkered floor with her eyes closed, as hedges as black as the night slowly grew around her, filling the mansion with something similar to a labyrinth…

All of these images were overlaid with the discussion – of clear voices between her and Regina, discussing about Victoire and that painting in the Hall of Pictures.

But there was something different, something completely peculiar that did not completely belong in her dream.

 

She heard that voice again…

It was that male voice that kept repeating, _“Please…_ ”

And it was followed by the sound of sobbing and the words, _“I beg of you_ …”

 

And this image was somewhat accompanied by this long, forgotten yet familiar image of a hand enclosed with a black leather glove threading through her long hair as she slept on the bed –

 

Vivienne awoke with a start, realizing that she was sweating through her designated night clothes and that the quilt had ended up wrapping itself around her torso.

Freeing herself from the tussle of sheets that were tangled around her body, she can still feel herself trying to catch her breath as she turned to her side only to see this faint sunlight peeping through the windows, telling her that at least for now the night is over and the morning can save her from her horrible dreams that do not make sense at all… and yet somewhat fit like a horrible jigsaw puzzle.

Sitting up on her bed, she found herself looking at her best-friend’s bed only to find out that Regina was still asleep – a trait that wasn’t common since she’d already be awake and doing something work-related, either its reading, filing, or looking for news on her iPad.

Wrinkling her nose, remembering how it was absurd that the information-seeking Regina was the one who was preventing her often-laid-back-and-hesitant self from going into that secret library; Vivienne couldn’t help but wonder what her friend could have seen that was kept from common eyes that have also been in that room during the time Claire trapped her in that said hall. And what infuriated Vivvie was that she wasn’t always this inquisitive – and it was so ironic that the one time she wanted to discover something for herself was the one time when Regina would try to stop her.

 _I know she’s just looking out for me considering the things that have already happened in the mansion so far,_ Viv thought as she haughtily folded her bedding and quilts, huffing as she moved around the room. _But something is telling me that there are things that I need to discover in that room, in this mansion, with this entire phenomenon – all on my own_.

Wrought by her thoughts, the girl couldn’t help but peer at her friend’s face as she slept – realizing that Regina couldn’t dream well just like her, considering the sour expression on her lips and the way she shut her eyes so tightly.

Vivienne couldn’t help but wrinkle her brow as well as she stood near her friend’s bed, wondering if Regina could be having the same nightmares that she’s having, and if they’re troubling her as well. But seeing her friend like this only strengthened her resolve to uncover the truth about that ominous portrait hanging in the now-out-of-bounds room.

Pacing back and forth without making any sound, thanks to her Converse sneakers, Viv began to run down in her brain the possible ways she can extract information:

  1. Without getting herself into trouble with the Senior Teachers who are starting to panic even if they’re hiding it so well

  2. Without exploring possible parts of the mansion that may stir up _something_ unnatural

  3. That can still help her piece up everything she currently knows about the house, the Sinclairs, the ominous Sharpes, and that Lady Who’s Face Mimics Hers.




And that was when once again a glint of black, gold, and silver caught her eye and Vivienne found herself looking at her bedside table once more where she carelessly flung the black swan pendant after taking it off her neck and threading it out of her long hair.

They were historians, they were archaeologists of some sort, and they were researchers. She was pretty sure that most of their colleagues were trained in the field somewhere somehow, and they were flanked by the most noted professors from around the country who definitely did their researches and earned their degrees and possibly masterals and doctorates for a reason. But what are they missing here?

So many questions were brewing and left unanswered – What is with that ominous painting in the 2nd Floor Hall Landing and why was it covered? Why on earth does she share a face with one of the people who seemed to have lived in this house? Why wasn’t she nor anyone else informed of that? And is it coincidence that she has in her possession an old pendant that has the same motif as the house as well?

Why does _everything seemed to connect_ and yet _everything does not make sense?_

She then came to terms that there was only one place where she could be sure to get some information without uncovering another ominous passage way to some musty looking library that may turn out to be some sacred burial site of sorts… or whatever Regina’s imagination could make of it. And that place she was referring to wasn’t in this mansion.

She decides that she needs a jeweler.

Or someone who can identify that pendant.

Nodding sagely to herself, the girl decides to get a pen and a small blue post-it from her work bag.

Without thinking twice about her plan, Vivienne grabs the pendant from her bedside table and then leaves a note that reads:

 

_If we can’t enter [the Library],_

_Then I’m going to do research for myself around the town._

_Maybe I’ll go in the Town Library._

_You will know where to find me in case Pickering asks._

_\- Vivvie_

 

The least she can do is pray that Regina stays calm and not get Pickering to call the police if she’s not back in an hour.

 

 

***

 

 

The sound of pounding of hammer on wood was what probably woke everyone up. The hammering could be heard even down in the Mess Hall as a very unhappy Mr. Peabody reattached the wooden plank that was supposed to bar out “intruders” from the now-forbidden Hall of Pictures, without knowing _what_ or _who_ could be inside.

Vivvie made it a point to get out of bed early before Regina could wake up so she can escape the girl’s repeated lectures on why entering that library is dangerous – or even stop her from leaving the mansion just to go to the Town Library. She doesn’t completely understand why Reggie was suddenly getting clingy, but after seeing what happened to Claire and Dr. Carlton; suddenly all of Regina’s actions would make sense.

And of course she really had to pass through the Mess Hall because she was so hungry after the events of last night. Not to mention that she barely finished yesterday’s dinner. She would have probably snuck up on a few spoons of the soup she brought Regina the night before, but it would have gone cold by now.

After managing to convince Miss Caroline and the other cooks not to prepare a full meal for her, Vivvie managed to snag a piece of toast with a bit of butter smeared on it, even if the kind house help wouldn’t agree with her choice of breakfast. The moment she entered the Mess Hall proper though, she could hear hushed tones and the possible sound of someone weeping that it almost made her stumble with her face first into the melty yellows of her margarine thinking that some ghost must have followed her there.

 

“… _and I’m not even sure what happened to Dr. Susan since she didn’t return to our room last night –_ “

 

Chloe had to stutter into a halt the moment the slightly older brunette walked in, plate still in hand. And at that exact moment, Chase managed to remove his slung arm over Chloe’s shoulder, making it seem as if they weren’t a thing and nobody noticed it.

Silence hung over the air as Vivienne found herself gawkily making a grin in the direction of the two teenagers, as Chloe and Chase returned the gesture, despite avoiding eye contact. There was this soft sigh that escaped Viv as she realized that the incident from last night may still have an effect on her colleagues.

As awkwardness permeated the Mess Hall, Vivvie decided to take her toast on the go and leave the two lovebirds on their own, pretending that she didn’t see anything…

 

Or _hear_ anything.

 

Next thing she knew, she was done with breakfast after going back into the kitchen, eating what was left of her toast as she found herself staring into space into the same open window overlooking the back garden where she saw Claire looking fazed – almost a day ago.

Armed with only her phone, her wallet, and a small sling bag with a few necessities all prepared the moment she marched out of the room to avoid Reggie’s further questioning; Vivvie prepared to make her way out of the mansion at a time when she believed Edgerton and Pickering were just waking up. She made sure to avoid Peabody who was definitely descending the grand staircase and would be going out the front door and she decided to sneak through the back kitchen knowing that so far it was only Chase, Chloe, and housekeeping who have seen her awake.

Taking notes from Caroline about the winding paths from the back door garden towards the side of the house that eventually led to the main gate, Vivvie got out quietly and found herself looking up at the bright sun shining down on her with the belief that no ghoul would at least stand in her way or bother her in broad daylight.

Ducking underneath large vines of bougainvillea, the girl managed to follow this small stone path that appeared out of nowhere a few steps after you go out the mansion’s kitchen and out the small backdoor garden that was surrounded by a small stone wall, separating it from the rest of the greenery that was still part of the Cygne Sombre.

Trying to find her footing over the stones that were almost hidden by overgrown moss and grass, it paved a path around the house and Vivienne eventually found herself nearing the front of the mansion, having passed by that ominous gazebo where she first saw that creepy black-haired man who came from nowhere; the structure being flanked by two swan statues standing on two posts that were feet away from the outdoor patio.

Eventually, the girl found herself standing almost in front of the gate, black and towering, with its sharp spires topped off the with the crest of the Black Swan, the insignia of the Sinclair family.

A lush cobbled driveway lead from the outside of the gates and into the main grounds, stretching all the way to the entrance of the mansion. Circling a small fountain just outside the greeting lobby of the house, the stones are slowly being covered by the overgrowth of grass and weeds. Vivienne could remember walking through it with a dazed and sleepy look the moment they first arrived in the mansion, with no intention of going out and just doing most of her work inside the dreary rooms of the old house, archiving and handling artifacts.

She had no intention of leaving, till now.

Vivvie then found herself determinedly looking up at the height of the gates, despite remembering that it is still usually locked by Peabody and only unlocked when someone authorized is about to enter, or someone from the inside is going out. But looking around, expecting Peabody to have left the front door and probably went to a nearby gameskeeper’s shack nearby still inside the grounds, there was no one there to unlock and open the gates for her.

Save for the presence of a four-legged creature that seemed to be standing in front of it.

The girl found herself tilting her head at it as she stopped on her tracks, recognizing its small pointed snout and twitchy ears, with her eyes slowly moving down to identify its slender legs and well-anchored hooves that almost disappeared in the tall grass. Small gray spots covered its back as its beady black eyes were affixed at her, watching her every move.

It happened to be a doe as white as snow.

Wrinkling her nose at it, Vivvie tried to go past around it, but the animal remains undisturbed, just twisting its head as it follows her around with its eyes. Keeping her distance from the creature, there was something absurdly disturbing about the way it looked at her… as if it was waiting for _something_ to happen.

And what bothered Viv is the fact that this _something_ doesn’t seem to be good at all.

She probably tried to confuse the animal with the direction she was going to, hoping she’d make it to the gates without setting it off or making it aggressive (thinking “ _do deer bite? I don’t think so…”_ ); but it kept its eyes on her vigilantly, as if for some reason it was guarding the entrance to the mansion.

Backing away with her feet finding her footing over the cobblestones, Vivvie tried to shoo the deer away but it wouldn’t budge either. What bothered her even further is the fact that it moved once, and it looked as if its hooves weren’t completely touching the grass… nor was it making marks on the ground.

Then she remembered the supernatural occurrences that happened in the house for the past few days.

Never taking her eyes away from the deer, she took a good look at the towering walls, and realized that they weren’t as high as the tall black spires that made up the gates. Making sure that her amenities are fixed in her bag or on her, Viv found herself still clutching the swan pendant that she took from her bedside table, intending to initially stash it away in her small sling bag. But during the last minute she felt herself change her mind as she slung the pendant’s chain around her neck.

That was when she saw the doe twitch.

Wincing, Vivienne turned to look at it again, only to find it frozen in its place once more. Without thinking twice, she prepared to breach the wall. Trained to climb trees ever since she was a little girl, she began to slowly scale the brick walls by holding on to the large vines that decorated it.

By the time she got to the top and swung her feet over the other side, she found herself looking back at the deer that still stood in its place – but it’s beady black eyes with its snow white head pointed in her direction.

Vivienne felt herself shudder.

Without taking another look, she safely hopped down the other side of the wall, brushing dirt and leaves off her as she sets to make her way to town. She didn’t dare look back because she was sure that the doe still had its eyes on her.

 

 

***

 

 

The hustle and bustle in the small town’s Central Square was unusually toned down and light despite nearing mid-morning. As the French Quarter is believed to be the oldest neighborhood in the state, the small lazy town of Fontaine Noire, located deep in the heart of Vieux Carre, is sleepier than the rest of the city.

Only a few blocks away from the Cygne Sombre that was hidden deep near the marshes where people do not usually venture to, the central square of Fontaine Noire can easily be travelled by foot if you came from the said town’s infamous mansion. Despite being part of one of the oldest neighborhoods in the state, a certain modern energy was emanating from the Central Square with a bakery catering to a few patrons in one corner and a café serving coffee to customers who are sitting under those big outdoor umbrellas, tinkering with their modern-day gadgets. It was a relief for Vivienne who enjoyed a change of mood and setting compared to the drab and dingy, out-of-date, Victorian-styled mansion she has been staying in.

Following an old map that she had downloaded and synced to a reader in her phone, Vivvie found herself standing in front of an old dilapidated building with large blackened columns and broken windows, with a large fading engraved sign on its highest platform that reads “Town Library”.

The way she frowned must have been so loud without her having to make a sound that she suddenly heard footsteps behind her and a voice asking, “Looking for something, little missy?”

The way they spoke was so different from the locals she has met while working in the Maison, she found herself trying to identify if it was French or English or something else when she turned around and found herself staring into a tall stranger’s face, shadowed by his long hair that almost covered his eyes. By the way he spoke she could tell that he was a local, at least not by his _distinct_ accent she couldn’t put a finger on, but by the way he easily blended into the crowd and seemed to know his way around as evidenced by his swagger and strut.

“If you’re looking for the Town Library,” he spoke again, those piercing eyes staring right at her… before slowly moving down to gaze at the pendant hanging around her neck. “It burned down years ago, doll.”

Her eyes shifting from her phone and to the man who was standing right in front of her, she had to try and compose herself and not to show her complete dissolution and disappointment in front of a complete stranger. However, it wasn’t that easy.

“That’s –“ she muttered, her shoulder sagging as she looked around hopelessly, trying to find another clue to where she can find information without asking too much since this stranger _who approached her out of nowhere_ may seem shady. “That’s really disappointing – I was hoping to find a place where I can look up records about the Black Swan Mansion –“

“ _Le Maison du Cygne Sombre_ ,” the stranger spoke in fluent French, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up for no reason. And to make things worse, he stepped forward and carelessly plucked the pendant that was hanging on her chest without any pretense, invading her privacy as if they were longtime friends. “Why would a fair little girl go snooping around about an old decrepit mansion?”

She felt an absurd expression forming on her face and some sharp words forming on her tongue, but she had to stop herself as she slowly began to take a better look at this person. He wasn’t far from those teenagers wearing large coats and sporting snazzy old-fashioned wear from suspenders to ascots around their neck as if it was some fashion statement of the year; but then she realized that the choice of tweed for his waistcoat underneath that long gray-almost-black trench he was wearing seemed too outdated for a young man with a pale face. She also swore she could spy a pocket watch chain underneath all his layers; but somewhat the faded dark blue turtleneck he was wearing underneath it all with some fashionable buttons sewn on the side of the neck for no-good reason sort of calmed her down and made her realize that he’s probably the same age as Pickering.

“It’s a long story,” she found herself muttering as the man continued to gaze at her pendant at a close and discomforting distance, running his long fingers on the details of the necklace. “I don’t think we have the time to talk about it.”

His eyes suddenly shot up from the necklace to stare at her, making her back away as far as the chain of the necklace could let her as she realized that this stranger _also_ has cold, piercing blue eyes.

However, this time around Vivienne was _sure_ that he was _alive_ since she felt the warmth of his fingers when she unceremoniously clasped the pendant and snatched it out of his hand. To her surprise, he let out this low chuckle as she went into a defensive stance, tucking the said pendant deeper underneath her cardigan.

“You know what, missy,” he spoke in that fluid accent once more, making Vivvie feel even queasier on how it sounded like honey to her ears and she didn’t like the fact that _she liked hearing it_. “I know a jeweler who can tell you exactly when that pendant was created and who has possibly held it...”

The black-haired girl dropped her jaw after hearing what he said.

“H-How did you know that I needed a jeweler for this –“

For some reason, that toothy grin he shot her sent a shiver down the back of her spine. But the way he smiled and the way those eyes sparkled somewhat told her that she had no other choice at that moment.

“The name’s Will,” he said with a cocky nod. “You stick with me and you’ll get the information you need.”

 

 

***

 

The external architecture of Coeur Brûlé de Curie Antique Museum may seem decrepit and gloomy with its graying lampshades and old fading black wood that held its unwashed windows, but once you enter its doors you are greeted with its beautiful art nouveau architecture, spanning from the arches that decorated it’s quiet lobby with no other customers except this old wizened-looking man with thick spectacles and a quizzical brow sitting behind the counter.

Vivvie couldn’t remove her eyes from the walls that was crawling with designs that spiraled and shifted onto the dome above the lobby, as she completely lost track of her self-proclaimed tour guide who was seemingly talking to her, muttering stuff as she found her eyes wondering around.

“You see little missy,” the boy who called himself Will pandered on, not noticing that the person he was talking to was entranced with something else. “After the collective accidents that befell the Town Hall and the Town Library, people salvaged any saved records that they could save and brought them to this place,” he muttered, sniffling randomly. “Considering that the old man who runs this shop is one of the oldest residents of this town...”

He turned around to see her looking around, completely lost in thought how the whole establishment seemed bigger on the inside. But once he found himself staring long enough, the girl snapped herself out of her trance as she looked back at the young man, a bit of unease forming on her face for being watched without her knowing it. There was something in the way he smiled, despite being all toothy and mischievous; a certain charm seemed to dominate his talkative personality, causing Vivienne to look away, wondering why she'd have such thoughts about a stranger. Shaking his head in some sort of silent reply, the youngster just marched towards that old man at the counter who seemed to own the place.

“Hello there, Good Ol’ Jenkins!” The way Will managed to greet the man who stood at the counter was so haughty that he earned a sharp eye and a curled lip.

“Good morning to you too, William,” he gruffly muttered the youngster’s name, snorting derisively in his direction before slowly turning his haughty gaze towards the other newcomer whose eyes were still plastered on the architecture. “And who are you, miss?”

The girl had to snap back into attention after having her eyes set on this beautiful carving of a birdcage sitting on the receptionist’s cluttered desk. “Well,” she stammered, not expecting to be spoken to since Will did tell her earlier that ‘He’d take care of it’; Vivienne came unprepared as she found the wizened brow now directed at her, waiting for her answer. “I –“

“This little miss,” The younger man quickly came to answer the question, despite having no knowledge of her name just yet. “Is here looking for a jeweler –“

Old Mr. Jenkins quickly sniffed and then snorted, casting those old blurry eyes down. “I’m not interested in buying any baubles Miss –“

That’s when Vivvie found her voice. “I really don’t intend to sell anything!” She squeaked out, still someone wondering why all her poise was gone and she was suddenly a stuttering mouse. But considering the judgmental eyes of the receptionist and that knowing smile Will was giving her, she really had a reason to be uncomfortable. “I just wanted to find out if anyone here could tell me any history about this pendant I’ve had for quite a wh –“

She was lifting the pendant from underneath her cardigan, moving closer to the counter, when there appeared a certain glint that appeared in Old Jenkin’s eyes. Rising up from his seat, he reached out from beyond the counter to take the pendant hanging from the girl’s neck, pulling her along with it. Horrified with how the people seemed to react to this obscure, antique pendant on her person, Vivvie couldn’t help but notice how Jenkins seemed to have the same curious and awed expression Will was originally wearing when he first saw the jewelry hanging on her neck. What he whispered next however, brought a shiver down her spine.

“ _Signe du cygne noir_ ,” the old man whispered, his eyes seemingly entranced as he traced the details of the necklace. With her ear picking up the French words, Vivienne was able to recognize the term “ _noir_ ” is also synonymous to “ _sombre”_ , causing her to frown once more as she found it somewhat becoming connected to the mansion.

But of course, it may only be a coincidence. At that moment, she’s banking on coincidence to save her sanity.

But a girl from the 1800’s with the same face as yours might be coincidence too right?

Vivienne could only hope.

“This is a vintage Victorian pendant,” Old Jenkins muttered, his voice trembling. Leaning against the counter, Will’s eyebrows shot up inquisitively as he leaned close to take a gander at it again. With two strange men looking at the necklace in close range, Vivienne was starting to feel claustrophobic until Old Jenkins reluctantly released the jewelry, causing the girl to grasp it nervously.

“I am a jeweler, my dear,” the old man suddenly exclaimed, drawing himself out and sticking out his chest, towering over the two patrons who entered his antique-museum. “I can give you what you need. Come follow me…”

Blinking, some sort of relief swaddled Vivvie as she realized that maybe she’s going to get answers after all. Still clutching the pendant, she awkwardly followed the old man towards this back room that was hidden behind giant double doors with beautiful stained glass windows.

She barely noticed how Will rolled his eyes after Mr. Jenkin’s triumphant and showy declaration that he was the all-around owner, upon discovering about the valuable artifact the girl was holding. Nonetheless, the young man placed his hands behind his back and followed the two inside the back room as he quietly whistled to himself a quiet and merry tune.

 

Vivienne then found herself in a place filled with baubles, tiny engines, moving parts, and various artifacts that would give inventors a run for their money – as well making collectors drool with envy.

 

The back room was Mr. Jenkins’ own personal collection, a place he called his own “Imaginarium”.

Everything were acquired with his own bargaining and exchange skills that he had developed throughout the sixty-seven years of his life, and they covered every nook and cranny of this tiny back room that he doesn’t show to most guests unless they were willing to barter with him or show him something of value. After all, most of his guests were either tourists who would like to see the public display of antiques that came from all over New Orleans in the upper floors, or to visit his expanded library that became the town information hub ever since the Town Library burned down for ominous reasons.

It is in this same back room where he kept his polishing and restoration tools, and they were used either for checking the value of an artifact to repairing gems that fell out of ornate chests that he’s trying to sell. Getting her head lost in the ornaments positioned around the room, Vivvie found herself entranced by those wooden sculptures with religious themes, along with beautiful (yet creepy) Victorian-age house ornaments that were plastered on the wall. Eventually, she came around this beautiful glass shelf of tiny baubles and shiny ornaments, some that seemed to date back as far as the Renaissance era… or even further.

And that was when she realized that Mr. Jenkins was motioning for her to come forward, with a tilt of his hand (and that subtle snort from Will behind her), as she was entranced by the various jewels and artifacts in his Imaginarium. For some reason, Vivvie was more in awe of Mr. Jenkins’ first impression of his Antique Museum/Shop, than what she found in the White Room. At least the Imaginarium had no bad memories attached to it, such as a haunting image and a dead professor…

“Come,” he gestured to a curious-looking girl who shook her head for a while, retracting her gaze from a queerly-sculpted bust of a faun. “Come closer to this desk, miss –“

She felt Will gently nudging her back, just behind the collarbones, for her to move forward.

“Viv,” she found herself murmuring. “My name is Vivienne, sir.”

Jenkins may have raised an eyebrow, but a knowing smile appeared on his lips as he tilted his head in greeting, a complete contrast of his haughty and sneering self when she and the stranger Will first walked through his doors.

“My pleasure, Miss Vivienne,” he answered politely, bowing again as the girl found some sort of warmth and comfort for the first time towards the man as she moved towards the shelf where he stood behind. But then when he lifted his face, he then crooked his finger and gestured towards the pendant strung around her neck. “May I –“

Half of the girl wanted to hold on to the pendant, becoming overprotective over it. You wouldn’t blame her, after all it came from a deceased old flame… and it was the only clue she had to the chaos that was surrounding the Black Swan project. But half of her wanted to let it go, give it away, as if she wanted to pass on a burden she could barely understand and she couldn’t even explain… as if she wanted to pass on a curse just so she can set herself free…

“Alright,” Her mouth decided to make up for her mind as she strung the necklace off her neck and handed it to the man’s old and withered hand. “Here you go.”

Holding it delicately in his hand, the shop-keeper and museum-owner gingerly placed it down on the glass surface of the jewel-shelf, before pulling out a small toolbox from underneath his wooden work desk just behind the counter. Opening the old rickety box, he pulled out a magnifying glass scope that easily clips on his old scratched-out eyeglasses as he held the pendant in one hand, bringing it to his good eye.

Mr. Jenkins remained silent for a while as he quietly inspected the golden trinket that was slowly darkening in the edges.

The silence stretched on for some time as incoherent murmuring could be heard from the man as he worked, causing an anxious and slightly impatient Vivienne’s eyes to wander somewhere. Her eyes caught Will’s in that one uncomfortable moment, realizing how close the man was standing next to her, seemingly eyeing her unabashedly as well, causing the girl to awkwardly step away as she straightened her cardigan.

“Curious…”

Old Jenkins’ reply quickly cut through the uncomfortable moment between the two youngsters, as Vivvie quickly stepped forward and placed both of her hands on the glass counter. “What is it, sir?” she asked excitedly.

The old man sniffed, turning the oval charm around his fingers. “I haven’t seen this kind of design for a very long time,” he said in a soft yet excited voice. “The last I recall, I believed my great-grandmother owned one of these… Or something similar to these…”

Vivienne’s eyes widened.

“Could you tell –“ She found all the thousand questions she initially did not want to ask, suddenly flooding her brain. “Could you be able to tell when and where this piece of jewelry was made? I really need to know –“

She had placed both of her hands on the workstation, leaning close as she wanted to see what else he would have seen with his wizened old eyes, when her sudden movement startled the man. Mr. Jenkins suddenly turned a sharp eye in her direction, causing her to straighten up and back off, bumping right into Will’s lean figure.

Hearing that knowing snort behind her as she felt the younger man nudge her safely and closely to the work station as she removed her hands from the surface, she heard the old jeweler grumble as he symbolically turned the pendant around his fingers. “The last time I saw a design like this, it must have been in Cumberland –“

Vivvie found herself raising an eyebrow. “Cumberland?” She swore she heard about that place before… Was it mentioned in the house by her parents? Was it mentioned by a friend. Has she read it somewhere? The girl was busy wracking her brain for the answers, when her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Mr. Jenkins rambling about.

“24-karat gold, to be precise,” he muttered, taking a closer look at it, those old pupils seemingly dilating as he held it close to his magnifying scope attachment. “Black surface made of marble, but the kind that you would not usually find in said location –“

The man routinely clicked his front teeth together, making that peculiar sound – a mannerism. “Possibly made in the late 1900s, during the last few years of the reign of Queen Victoria –“

The old shopkeeper suddenly did something not visibly seen to the two youngster’s eyes, making a loud and definite _click!_ Vivienne gritted her teeth and winced with the sound, as she quickly tilted her head in fear that the old man must have done something and dislodged an important part of her antique necklace. Panic and a slight of anger brewing, she was about to open her mouth to retort when the old jeweler safely turned the pendant around in his hands, seemingly done with his task, as he set it down on the surface of the table – all in one piece.

Relieved that she might have been imagining things, like the shopkeeper probably taking a chip off her item for some goddamn reason, possibly to lessen its value; Vivienne was about to pick it up from the table when Old Jenkins cleared his throat.

“Why are you so interested in finding out about this trinket, young lady?” He suddenly spoke, breaking the silence, placing the trinket flat on its back on the surface of his workstation.

Vivienne was about to answer, when someone else suddenly spoke behind her –

“Well,” Will sniffed, leaning on the glass counter, those blue eyes still fixed on Vivienne as she tried to ignore them. “She was trying to find information about the Black Swan Mansion.”

Silence filled the work room.

There was something that shone inside the old man’s eyes as Vivienne was starting to wonder why the silence was taking so long, as she didn’t notice the small smile growing on the face of her companion that was standing behind her. As for Old Jenkins, his hands began to shake as he reached for the pendant.

“Did you find this bauble in the mansion, Miss?” His voice shook as he asked the confused girl.

Vivvie blinked twice.

“No – but –“

The old man’s wrinkled fingers now caressed the pendant as if it was an old lover. This made the girl raise her eyebrows as she realized what he was doing to her jewelry. “Are you alright, Mr. Jenkins?” the Cockney voice behind her inquired, causing some sort of cold draft go through the room as Vivienne uncomfortably waited for the man to stop admiring her pendant too much.

But there was a faraway look in Old Jenkins’s eyes when he started speaking, and the way he looked at that small piece of metal, gold, and marble that is tied up with a golden chain. “I do recall a beautiful young lady who seemed to be wearing something like this during my younger years…”

There flashed a disbelieving expression on Viv’s face as she listened to the man cooing about some old tender memory that seriously was too creepy to even discuss at that moment since he seems to be busy fondling something that she owned. She turned to look at the young man who brought her there in the first place, but the cocky smile on his face was gone, and he seemed to be listening intently to the old man as well. Forced to sit through all of this, Vivvie just hopelessly shrugged her shoulders and tried to listen. That’s what historians do to get information anyway – _they listen._

“…she came from the most prominent family in New Orleans, foreigners from this place even,” he continued with a tone that droned on even if the rest of the room was asleep. “She had beautiful black hair and almond-shaped eyes and when she smiled, the boys in town could not stop but pay their praises in her direction…”

She felt Will behind her shift a bit, but Vivienne could only cross her arms, possibly trying to think about Old Jenkins’s eighty-year-old crush. There was a big possibility that this gal is dead. Definitely dead.

“And it’s a little bit curious –“ The wizened man suddenly straightened up.

Vivienne almost issued a loud sigh as the jeweler finally stopped molesting her pendant, but the expression he gave her suddenly caused her to close her parted mouth and stiffen up, backing right into the Cockney’s tall figure once more.

“She looked a little bit like you.”

A grave expression formed on the girl’s face. If there is already a portrait that looks similar to her from a hundred years ago hanging inside that old mansion, she cannot afford to have another lookalike roaming the streets – like what, fifty or sixty years ago?

“Can I get my necklace back please?” The distress in her voice was imminent as she stretched out a shaking hand, asking for her token back.

The man picked it up feebly from the surface on the table as he looked at her hand gingerly, before turning to look in those calculating and nervous dark-brown eyes.

Straining as she reached out an open hand, Vivienne had to painstakingly wait for that moment that seemed like an eternity for the man to hand her back her necklace – but at the last minute, the man suddenly retracted.

“Whatever you’re trying to find out about that old rickety wizened place must be so important –“ he said with a sneer, causing the girl to drop her jaw at him in exasperation.

He turned the trinket around his fingers again. “But you wouldn’t find enough with this old necklace. Unless –“ He made that ominous click on the pendant again with his fingers that made wheels inside Vivienne’s head turn, making her fear that he’s doing something to _her_ necklace that would end up breaking the old antique apart. “You would like for me to pry this thing apart –“

“No!” Vivvie suddenly exclaimed, her hands suddenly tugging on the gold chain. “Please sir,” she begged. “Don’t take my pendant apart –“

“Correction,” Mr. Jenkins said gravely, those eyes suddenly bearing down on her all of a sudden as if she did something very wrong. “This is not a _pendant_ , young miss. It’s a _locket_.”

The girl withdrew her hand with a shocked look on her face as the words tried to register in her brain.

“I’m sorry? –“

To her surprise, the old man took her hand and dropped the said pendant in her palm, his eyes now focused on hers.

Vivienne was about to retort, saying thank you for returning it in one piece – but the voice got stuck in her mouth when the old man started running his thumb slowly… and repeatedly, over the smooth surface of the back of her hand.

Staring at it peculiarly, as if she was stuck in some sort of bizarre Twilight Zone, she looked up only to find the old jeweler now leaning close to her in a considerably awkward and uncomfortable distance, giving her full view of the man’s wrinkled face that had seen war, regimes changing, and so many events that may have surpassed one lifetime…

And then she noticed how his eyes were passionately and creepily blue. What completely bothered the girl was that she remembered it not being that color earlier…

“M-Mr. J-Jenkins –“ The girl found herself stuttering as the man’s grip on the hand holding the necklace tightened, as she felt as if she was being probed by those eerie eyes. He looked at her without blinking, and what was horrifying was that his gait and demeanor seemed to have shifted… as if he wasn’t himself…

The man raised his other hand and began to caress the side of Vivienne’s face as the girl began to tremble, frozen from having to wring her hands free from the man’s grip, completely shocked with the developments. The man continued to ogle her; unaware of the pressure he is putting on her captured hand, his lips parted as if asking for something a little bit more than a touch…

“You really look like her,” even the voice that escaped the old man didn’t seem to belong to her. “So young, so vibrant…” He exhaled. “So beautiful…”

By the time Vivienne found her strength to try and wring her hand free, the old man had gently clutched her jaw with a certain force, slowly drawing her closer to his face –

When all of a suddenly, a firm hand suddenly landed on the old man’s arm, yanking him off the terrified young girl who was frozen on the spot.

“Oi you old geezer,” she could hear Will barking behind her as he successfully pried the girl off the shocked man’s grip, safely harrying her away from the counter, with the necklace enclosed in her fist. “Lay off the poor lass, will ya?”

There was a trace of anger and shock on the old man’s face, as he was haltingly interrupted by the younger man. But before he can retort, Will had already placed both of his hands on the girl’s shoulder, tugging her away from the spot where her feet seemed to have melded on the floor.

What was peculiarly bizarre was that the old shopkeeper’s face seemed to be slowly turning red as the shadows in the shop seemed to grow, with the seemingly harmless workshop now turning into something ominous and threatening...

There seems to be something demonic and unearthly growing upon the shopkeeper’s aura as he opened his mouth.

“ _ **WILLIAM –**_ “

But the young man was way ahead of him, pulling Vivvie by the hand now, dragging her back to the lobby even before the old man could attempt to walk around the counter of his workshop. As the two youngsters reached the lobby, Vivvie was trying to catch her breath as she looked behind the swinging antique doors, wondering if the man would be bounding back in that eerie form with his blue eyes seemingly glowing. In front of her, the young man held on to his newspaper boy’s cap as he looked around frantically, trying to find the next plan of action.

“What –“ the younger girl panted, clutching the necklace to her chest. “Now –“

Trying to collect themselves, both had to gasp and stop when they continued to hear that booming voice from the old bloke’s Imaginarium. Cold sweat ran down the two youngster’s backs as they heard that sound that didn’t seem from this world above screaming –

“ _ **GIVE HER BACK TO ME NOW –**_ “

Before the man could even show his face, William hurriedly took Vivienne’s hand and had her sprint up the spiral stairs that ran along the walls of the circular lobby, leading to a second floor balcony that housed one giant antique door that seemed to lead into an enclosed atrium, leading deeper into whatever that old building seemed to house.

With her stamina being tested, Vivvie couldn’t help but gasp in between breaths, attempting to talk to her supposed savior. “Where are we going –“

“ _Shhhh!_ ”

To her surprise, William pushed her behind a dark corner near the door, a blind spot that couldn’t be seen from the lobby, as the boy pressed himself against her in an attempt to hide her as heavy footsteps and shouts could be heard from the lower floor.

Her nose pressed against the lanky boy’s turtleneck, she could swear she can smell that familiar telltale scent of peppermint that seemed to appear in the weirdest places, especially during her arrival in New Orleans. But this certain scent somewhat gave her peace as the two of them were crouched in the enclosure, waiting for silence to engulf the hall, hoping that Old Jenkins and whatever had taken over him would refrain from taking the stairs and end up approaching their hiding place.

It almost took forever for the silence to fill the lobby.

Whether the ominous steps were actually the shopkeeper slowly walking back towards his workshop or was actually ascending the stairs towards their hiding place, the duo couldn’t just tell. For five long minutes the two youngsters seemed to be huddled against each other, with William putting a protective arm over the younger girl. Vivienne on the other hand couldn’t explain the fear she could feel brimming inside of her, and yet despite the absurdity of things that had been happening to her lately – from the terrors at the mansion and the surreal events in the Antique Museum – she somewhat finds solace in this strange young man. For some reason, she was starting to believe that _maybe_ he could be trusted.

A few minutes later, William let out this gasp of relief.

“The coast should be clear,” he said with a raspy voice, causing Vivvie to quickly scramble to her feet.

“I should be going –“ she started, when all of a sudden, the young man suddenly grabbed her by the hand and had her spin right into his broad chest once more.

Vivvie could only have herself stare into the dark shade of blue of his inner shirt as the man issued a quiet “Shhh”, putting a firm hold on her shoulder. As she was questioning whether she was wrong about trusting William, she had to halt her thoughts when he suddenly spoke.

“It would be best if you avoided the lobby for now,” he whispered, those blue eyes never leaving her face.

The dark-haired girl raised her face looking gravely at him as she subtly removed herself from his embrace. But sensing the hostility, William gently gestured to the big door just beside them and uttered, “ – But I will show you another way to get out once you are done with your research.”

A confused expression appeared on the girl’s face.

“You do want to find out more about that pendant, right?” Seeing the way her face lit up for a second caused the young man to rub his hands together. “And of course, about the Mansion.”

Vivvie nodded slowly but there was still a disconcerting query etched on her face. “Yes…” she said slowly. “How –“ She took a considerable distance away from him now, but still continued whispering. “How did you know –“

The boy just shrugged his shoulders and pulled on the lapels of his coat. “I just know.”

She was about to retort to him concerning how she found this somewhat uncomfortable and she couldn’t handle uncomfortable at the moment, when the boy suddenly went straight to business, whispering his plans all the way as he kept gesturing to the door.

“You would be safer up here, especially in the library –“ William spoke fast, trying to catch his breath as Vivienne suddenly understood what the giant brown oak doors with hold lion-head knockers stood for. “The patrons won’t allow him to enter the library, even if he partially owned it – especially when he’s throwing a temper tantrum –“

Shaking her head, with her voice getting hoarse with all that whispering, she held up a hand to the boy. “Library? What are you talking about –“ She had to stop when the boy suddenly shushed in her direction. “And why would that man be throwing a temper tantrum at this moment –“

The boy’s blue eyes momentarily flicked to the lower floor before he licked his thin lips and turned to look at the girl again, taking big strides to stand in front of her.

“It doesn’t matter right now,” Will said firmly, suddenly holding her face the same way Old Jenkins was, cupping both of her cheeks with those ridiculously large hands. For a moment Vivvie felt her heartbeat slow down as time stopped, as she found herself looking in the boy’s eyes. “What matters right now is that you need to trust me…”

At that exact moment, Vivvie felt peace in her head for some reason.

“Do you trust me?”

The girl’s eyes fluttered to meet his, and still she could not ignore that bubble of uncertainty coming from the depths of her gut. She subtly and ceremoniously removed the young man’s hands from her face and smiled feebly in his direction.

“Looks like I have to,” she muttered underneath her breath.

Hearing her words, William quickly smiled a toothy grin at her and rubbed his hands once more, seemingly getting into position.

“There is the library at the end of the hall beyond this door,” he crouched as he began to detail the hallways she was supposed to go through. Vivvie listened intently, clutching the pendant around her neck. “The entrance of the library marks these huge sculptures of the gods Persephone and Hades embedded onto big steel brass doors. You have to go through the saloon as fast as you can, because once I open the doors, Old Jenkins will definitely hear them and he will come for you.”

A small glint of fear appeared in the boy’s eyes, but he straightened his shoulders up and exclaimed, “I’ll be here to meet him to explain myself. I can hold him off for as long as you are in the library.”

Vivvie opened her mouth to speak, but for some reason she suddenly found herself looking worriedly at her some-sort-of protector. “Why won’t you come with me –“ she spoke as she wondered why these certain words were flowing out of her mouth. “Surely you can enter the library –“

“I can’t –“ There was remorse in the boy’s voice as he seemingly took something from his pocket and shoved it in the girl’s hands. “Because there’s only one token.”

The girl found herself looking down in her hands and found a small piece of gold, with an ornate insignia engraved upon it. She was in the middle of inspecting it, identifying it as some sort of badge, but just as she was about to flip it over when the boy suddenly grabbed her hands, causing her to look straight into those cold cornflower blues again.

“Just flash them in the face of the butler who keeps the library,” he exclaimed, as she tried to ignore his thumb lovingly brushing the back of her hand. “And he will guarantee you entrance.”

Clutching the token hard, Vivvie was trying not to be frantic, but she found herself eyeing the big doors, realizing it will need two people to push it open. But as the boy prepares to push his weight against it to open one half, Vivvie retracted from her position on the other half, as she anxiously eyed the young man from head to toe.

“But what about you –“ she exhaled. “I can’t leave you to that crazy old man.”

William has to pause from heaving against the door, as he looked down on his feet, a smile forming on his face. And as he turned to look up at the girl, that was the moment when she realized that the boy has nothing but good intentions.

“I am happy that you worry about me, darling,” he said in that smooth accent that somewhat set peace to her anxieties. “But do not think of me. Accomplish what you need to finish. I’ll take care of Old Jenkins. We’ve known each other for so long that he wouldn’t do anything to me.” He sniffed and ran a hand across his face before grinning at her again. “Do what you shall, and I will be here when you come out.”

That was all she needed to hear. Nodding, she positioned her body against the big oak door.

“I can sure you that you shall be safe there. These patrons are from elite families… They won’t let any harm come to you,” Will reminded her, preparing to utilize all his strength. “Oh,” he spoke up again, making the girl wonder when they should start moving before they actually get caught. “One more thing –“

She exasperatedly looked at him before worriedly looking at the lower floor again. But when she turned to the boy, there was a firm smile on his face.

“When I open the door, I need you to run.”

Without any warning, he began to push. Vivvie’s eyes widened as she did the same.

A loud creaking echoed through the entire lobby, causing these heavy footsteps to be heard from underneath the second floor once more. As an booming cry could be heard from that old man who seemed frail enough to exert such power, a bright light began to seep through the slowly opening doors of the atrium, causing Vivvie to cover her eyes.

To her surprise, she felt hands grab her, almost causing her to scream – if it wasn’t for something being clapped on her mouth to quiet her down.

She opened her eyes to find William holding her, in the middle of the gesture of shoving her inside the atrium.

“ _Run!_ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The location “Fontaine Noire” is actually fictional, literally meaning “Black Fountain”.
> 
> The title "Signe du Cygne Noir" translates as "Sign of the Black Swan".


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